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THE WILDERNESS OF 
THE UPPER YUKON 



THE WILDERNESS OF 
THE UPPER YUKON 



A HUNTER'S EXPLORATIONS 
FOR WILD SHEEP IN SUB-ARCTIC MOUNTAINS 



BY 

CHARLES SHELDON 



ILLUSTRATED 



NEW YORK 

CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 
19 1 1 



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Copyright, ipii, by 
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 

Published September, 1911 



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TO 

EDWARD W. NELSON 

One of the world's foremost field naturalists, who for thirty 
years conducted natural history explorations in the wilder 
areas of our continent from Arctic Alaska to Tropical Amer- 
ica; who first revealed to science the White Sheep of our 
Far North, and collected the types of the Wild Sheep of 
the desert ranges of Southern California and Mexico. 
His love of the wilderness, his studies in ethnology, his 
zest in hunting, exploring, and collecting, his indomit- 
able courage, and his high character and nobility of 
manhood have been to me an ever-present inspiration. 



PREFACE 

This book is a record of my field experiences while 
engaged in studying the color variations of the wild sheep 
of Yukon Territory. It is an attempt to give a detailed 
account strictly from the point of view of a hunter inter- 
ested in natural history. 

Most parts of the Territory which are inhabited by 
sheep are also the favorite abodes of moose and grizzly 
bears, and some of them of caribou. The black bear in- 
habits the forests everywhere below timber-line; the white 
goat lives exclusively in the humid belt of the Coast 
ranges. No other game animals exist in the Yukon wil- 
derness. Most of the fur-bearing animals of the Hudso- 
nian zone are abundant on the timbered slopes immedi- 
ately below the sheep ranges. The number of species of 
mammals and birds is small. 

In the North, wild sheep dwell exclusively on high 
mountains, above timber-line, usually well back within 
the ranges. Nearly all of the mountains on which I 
hunted, with the exception of Plateau Mountain and 
those near Watson River, were untrodden by the foot of 
white man or Indian. The wilderness was primeval, the 
sheep practically undisturbed, the other game animals 
seldom hunted. It was not possible to find guides, for 
there were none. It was necessary not only to search out 
a route to the mountains, but also to find the ranges oc- 
cupied by sheep. I have, therefore, adopted the sub- 
tide, "A Hunter's Explorations for Wild Sheep in Sub- 
Arctic Mountains." 



vili PREFACE 

Having made my trips under such conditions, I have 
tried to record my experiences when travelling by steam- 
boat, canoe, with pack-horses, and on foot; my efforts to 
find game and the details of hunting it; and a faithful 
account of the actions of all animals observed. To this 
I have added descriptions of the country traversed, my 
impressions of the scenery, and notes on the weather; so 
that the book might present a picture of the wilderness 
of Yukon Territory. 

All of my actual hunting has been done alone, with- 
out guide or companion. For the purpose of keeping a 
record, each day's experiences and observations were writ- 
ten in my journal before retiring to sleep. The excep- 
tions to this practice were very rare. 

A portion of these journals relates to the habits of 
animals. In view of subsequent experiences, however, I 
regard those gained in Yukon Territory merely as a train- 
ing in observation — a perspective for more correctly Inter- 
preting the observed traits and life histories of animals. 
This was a great help during the two following years (in- 
cluding the whole of one) which were spent in the interior 
of Alaska, where the same animals were much more 
abundant. For this reason, I have touched only sug- 
gestively on habits, but hope to Include a discussion of 
them in a future publication. 

The photographs having legends quoted from the text 
are accurate Illustrations, both in time and place, of that 
part of the text Included In the quotations. With two ex- 
ceptions, all photographs of dead animals exhibit their 
attitudes before I touched them, after they had fallen 
and died. 

In his interesting book. Recent Hunting Trips in 
British North America^ F. C. Selous has given an account 
of our trip up the MacMillan River. At the risk of some 



PREFACE ix 

duplication, I have included my narrative of it, not only 
because most of my hunting was directed toward the 
finding of sheep and consequently differed from his, but 
also to make my record of the wilderness country more 
complete. Selous has also described his later trip to the 
South Fork of the MacMillan, where he found the 
woodland caribou, Rangifer osborni, abundant. Dur- 
ing my wanderings, I met with these animals but once, 
and then my observation was limited to a cow and her calf. 

None of the annals of "breaking the wilderness" have 
been enriched by more romance than that of the advance 
of mining interests in Yukon Territory and Alaska. This 
has been told in several good books, which also include 
descriptions of the Lewes and Yukon Rivers. There- 
fore all allusions to the well-known routes of travel and 
the settled parts of the Territory have been excluded from 
my narrative. But I have included a short trip up the 
Katzehin River, near Skagway — the gateway to Yukon 
Territory. For those interested in natural history studies, 
chapter XX, which includes a discussion of the variations 
of the sheep, and also short remarks on some other an- 
imals, has been added to the narrative. 

A general map of Yukon Territory, including my hunt- 
ing camps, is inserted at the beginning of chapter XX. 

Appendices are added, giving: (A) a list of books 
and other publications relating to Sport, Natural History, 
Exploration, and the Topography of the Territory; (B) 
a list of the animals and fishes mentioned in the present 
volume, with their scientific names; (C) reproductions of 
the original descriptions of the northern species of sheep 
(descriptions written when knowledge of the sheep was 
very limited); (D) measurements of some of the sheep 
killed ; and (E) a record of the time of travelling by canoe 
down the Pelly River. 



X PREFACE 

I have never received anything but the heartiest good- 
will and the most kindly consideration from all people 
whom I met in Yukon Territory. Without exception, will- 
ing assistance was always offered, and given when needed, 
and I take this opportunity of expressing my thanks. 

It would be difficult to adequately express my in- 
debtedness to my friend, A. B. Newell, who at that time 
was Vice-President of the White Pass Railroad, and man- 
aged the river steamers between Whitehorse and Daw- 
son. Not only did he place at my disposal all the facili- 
ties of that vast transportation system, but he did what 
was still more valuable for the accomplishment of my plans 
— he gave his personal interest. 

W. H. Osgood and Carl Rungius have both placed 
all their photographs at my disposal, and I must especially 
mention the interest of Mr. Rungius in making some 
illustrations for this book. No other artist has had the 
experiences that would make it possible for him to record 
so accurately the animal life of the Yukon region. Mr. 
H. Q. French has kindly permitted me to use two of his 
photographs. 

E. W. Nelson and Arthur Colton have both read over 
that part of the narrative which relates to Coal Creek, 
and I have received much valuable criticism from 
them. 

With extraordinary patience. Dr. C. Hart Merriam 
has sacrificed his time and read the whole manuscript. 
I have accepted his numerous suggestions as to its form, 
and also his still more numerous corrections of the text. 
My obligation is so great, that I wish to lay special em- 
phasis on his interest and assistance, and in thanking 
him, to express my feeling of appreciation. 

Nobody except myself, however, is responsible for any 
of the conclusions in the text. 



PREFACE xi 

The pleasantest part of preparing the narrative has 
been the co-operation of my wife. 

A legitimate number of the animals killed were re- 
served for trophies; the others were collected especially 
for the U. S. Biological Survey, and are now in the new 
National Museum at Washington. 

The Biological Survey, a bureau of our National De- 
partment of Agriculture, is an institution too little known, 
and since it co-operated with me in all my work in the 
north, thus adding pleasure not anticipated, I would 
gladly bring its magnificent work to the attention of a 
wider public than that of the specialists and others 
directly interested. It was organized in 1885 for the pur- 
pose of studying the food habits of our native birds and 
mammals in their relations to agriculture, by Dr. C. Hart 
Merriam, who possesses one of the keenest scientific 
minds which the country has produced. Dr. Merriam 
saw that the continent of North America, stretching from 
the tropics to the Polar Sea, comprising vast areas of 
tropical, temperate, and arctic lands, and supporting a 
number of widely different fauna and flora, afforded 
an unrivalled field for the study of the interrelations of 
species, and the correlation of the distribution of animal 
and plant life. He was the first to appreciate and demon- 
strate the intimate relation between the agricultural pos- 
sibilities of a region and the distribution of its native 
forms of life. 

In order to learn the facts of distribution it was neces- 
sary to collect and determine the species inhabiting all 
parts of the continent. For this purpose trained natural- 
ists were sent into the field to discover the boundary fines 
of the various fauna, and to bring back collections for 
critical study. During the past twenty years, nearly one 
hundred thousand specimens of mammals, besides many 



xii PREFACE 

thousand birds, reptiles, and plants have been systemat- 
ically collected in various parts of North America from 
the arctic regions to the tropics, and from the eastern to 
the western borders of the continent. From the data 
thus secured and from other sources, the areas occupied 
by a considerable number of species have been mapped. 
The study of this accumulated information has resulted 
in definitely outlining the life zones into which North 
America is divided, and In demonstrating that each life 
zone, except the most northern, represents a crop zone or 
climatic belt, to which certain crops are best adapted. 
This close relation of the life zones to agriculture is 
shown in maps and bulletins published by the Biological 
Survey. 

Throughout its existence the Survey has made ex- 
haustive studies of the food habits of the species of birds 
and mammals for the purpose of determining their re- 
lations to agriculture, and has conducted experiments for 
the purpose of devising methods of protection for the 
beneficial, and methods of destruction for the injurious 
species. The benefits to our agricultural and grazing in- 
terests have already been great, and as our lands become 
more densely populated the economic results will prove 
of still greater value. To accomplish these ends Dr. 
Merriam has gathered about him a corps of trained field 
naturalists, more efficient for the purpose than any similar 
body of men in the world. 

As a nation we should be proud that the men engaged 
in this work have been broad enough not to neglect the 
profound scientific problems involved in it — problems 
touching the origin and dispersal of species. Darwin 
was perplexed by what seemed a grave objection to his 
theory, the apparent absence of transitional forms be- 
tween species. The collections made by the Biological 



PREFACE xiii 

Survey, both of mammals and birds, are extremely rich 
in these intermediate or intergrading forms — forms con- 
necting many of the well marked types which were 
formerly considered distinct species; and one day, when 
the time can be spared from more strictly official work,* 
the subject will be enriched by studies based upon this 
material — studies likely to form one of the most valuable 
contributions of this generation to our knowledge of evo- 
lution — and we shall look back on the work of the Bi- 
ological Survey as one of the most valuable achievements, 
both practical and scientific, that ever had its origin in a 
governmental department. 

In the way of field equipment, I had an open canvas 
shelter, instead of a tent, with side wings so constructed 
that, when pegged to the ground, they inclined outward 
at an angle from the perpendicular, leaving extra space 
for storing provisions. A detachable strip of canvas, a 
foot wide, could be tied in front and sloped outward over 
inclined poles. This prevented the rain from blowing in. 
No one who loves camp life can prefer a tent to a shelter, 
except in winter. The log fire which is always made before 
the shelter, reflects warmth directly inside, so that one 
can sit at ease and in enjoyment in all but the coldest 
weather. A shelter is also more convenient to erect than 
a tent. 

For sleeping, I had a coon-skIn robe, eight feet square. 
It weighed fourteen pounds. It keeps me warm enough 
even in winter weather. A lynx-skin robe is better and 
warmer, but more expensive. A caribou- or reindeer-skin 
robe is the best of all. Equally warm, it is very much 
lighter than either of the others. The wolf-skin robe is 

* Since the above was written Dr. Merriam has retired from his official posi- 
tion for the purpose of devoting his time exclusively to scientific studies. A 
large part of the results will appear in a comprehensive work on North Amer- 
ican mammals. 



xlv PREFACE 

more commonly used by trappers and prospectors, but 
is heavier. 

Until the month of November I always wore summer 
underclothing. A gray flannel shirt, and one pair of gab- 
ardine trousers last me for two seasons. Heavy wool- 
len socks and moccasins (leather, or preferably moose- 
hide when to be had in sufficient quantity) provide the 
footgear necessary for summer. The rubber shoe with 
leather uppers, soled and hobnailed, if possible, is best 
for early fall. I never wore a coat, but instead carried a 
parkay or seamless cloak, made of the skins of ground- 
squirrels. I wore this only on the tops of mountains, or 
when the cold required it. A pair of Zeiss prism field- 
glasses, eight or ten power, an Eastman kodak for films, 
31-4 X 41-4, were always carried on my belt. Any kind 
of felt hat answered, but usually I hunted without any 
hat at all. One of the most important things was my 
Alpine riicksack, which had been made in Germany. 
Instead of a coat, I always carried this on my shoulders. 
In it were the parkay and any extra things needed. 
Sixty pounds of meat could be packed into it, or a whole 
bear skin, or the head and skin of a ram. One small 
canvas bag would hold all my equipment for a season, 
except the small mouse traps, and the steel traps. A 
common pocket knife of good steel, for skinning, a com- 
pass, a barometer and a steel tape were always in my 
pockets. Usually I bought the provisions commonly used 
by all prospectors and trappers of the country — flour, rice, 
sugar, dried fruit, butter in cans, tea, bacon and salt; 
and a few other things when transportation could be 
provided. Skins were cured with salt when I could bring 
it. I always had a .22 rifle to use for shooting grouse and 
small animals, but for large game my Mannlicher, .256 
calibre, is the only rifle I have ever used in the North. 



C O N T E N TS 

CHAPTER PAGE 

I. The Trip to the Ogilvie Rockies — 1904 . 3 

II. On the Sheep Ranges — 1904 22 

III. Searching for Rams — 1904 51 

IV. The Final Stalk — 1904 72 

V. The Trip to the Forks of the MacMillan 

River — 1904 83 

VI. Up the North Fork to the Selwyn Rockies 

—1904 97 

VII. Searching for Sheep — 1904 112 

VIII. Looking for Rams — 1904 125 

IX. Down the North Fork. Plateau Moun- 
tain — 1904 136 

X. The Watson River Country — 1904 . . . 155 

XL The Katzehin River in Alaska — 1905 . . 171 

XII. The Pelly River — 1905 177 

XIII. The Pelly Mountains — 1905 , . . , . 194 

XIV. Hunting Rams — 1905 206 

XV. The Final Hunt for Rams — 1905 .... 229 

XVI. The Trip up Ross River — 1905 251 

XVII. The Sheep of Mount Sheldon — 1905 . . 266 



XV 



xvi CONTENTS 

CHAPTER PAGE 

XVIII. The Rose Mountains — 1905 276 

XIX. The Glenlyon Mountains — 1905 .... 286 

XX. Remarks on Some of the Animals of Yukon 

Territory 299 

Appendix A. — List of Books Relating to 
Sport, Natural History, 
AND Exploration of the 
Yukon Territory ... 331 

Appendix B. — Scientific Names of Animals 
Mentioned in the Narra- 
tive 333 

Appendix C. — Original Descriptions of 

Northern Sheep .... 336 

Appendix D. — Horn Measurements . . . 340 

Appendix E. — Time Spent in Paddling 

Down Pelly River . . . 344 

• Index 345 



ILLUSTRATIONS 

Vignette on cover from a drawing by Carl Rungius of the head 
of big ram killed by the author August 2, 1904. 

Rams (colored plate) Frontispiece 

FACING PAGE 

North-West Mounted Police on Yukon River below mouth of 

Coal Creek, July 8 8 

Fording Coal Creek 8 

"Across from camp the mountains were particularly rough," 

July 15 18 

"The mountains . . . extended high above timberline," July 14 18 

Looking up Coal Creek, July 15 20 

Peak of Ogilvie Rockies, July 15 20 

"We travelled on bars, fording back and forth," July 12 . . . 20 

"I saw the bear slowly walking along the upper surface of the 

basin" (colored plate) 22 

"Mountains with fantastic pinnacles and rock-turreted slopes 

surrounded us" 28 

"Perhaps the highest of those in the Divide ranges" .... 28 

"She fell, kicked once or twice, and was dead," July 16 . . . 28 

Our camp in the heart of the hunting country in the Ogilvie 

Rockies, July 17 32^ 

Our horses standing in the smoke to keep off mosquitoes . . 32 

Bull caribou on mountain in Ogilvie Rockies 38 ^ 

"He dropped, rolled a few yards, and was caught in the broken 

rock," July 19 42 

Caribou, killed July 19 42 

"We loaded the ram on Mike," July 23 52 

xvii 



xviii ILLUSTRATIONS 



FACING PAGE 



1. Point where ram was killed, July 19 . . 52 

2. Point where ram was killed, July 23 52 

3. Point where bear was killed, July 16 52 

Carl Rungius sketching the ram 62 

"They were on the west face of a high rugged mountain," 

August 2 72 

Osgood and Rungius 72 

"He dropped in his tracks," August 2 76 

"Selecting the grayest, I shot him through the middle of the 

body," August 2 76 

"I quickly selected the one with the largest horns and offhand 

shot him through the heart," August 2 76 

"A fine old veteran of the crags and peaks," August 2 . . . 76 

Breaking the hunting camp 78 

Travelling down Coal Creek 78 

"Stood motionless on the crest, gazing at the country below" , 83 

MacMillan Mountains from the MacMillan River 90 

"The peaks and ridges of Dromedary Mountain were visible 

in the distance " 90 

"Beaver cutting" on bank of MacMillan River 92 

Beaver house in eddy of MacMillan River 92 

Selous and the calf moose, September 2 98 

Large beaver house in a beaver lake of MacMillan River, 

September 3 104 

Selous towing the canoe, September 6 104 

Selous's bull, shot September 8 108 

"We endured it sitting under the shelter," September 14 . . . 108 

The summits of the Selwyn Rockies, September 16 no 

Selwyn Rockies, September 18 no 



ILLUSTRATIONS xix 

FACING PAGE 

"The cow appeared to resent my nearer approach," Septem- 
ber II ii6 

First ram killed, September 19 128 

Second ram killed, September 19 128 

Ewe killed, September 19 128 

"I took several photographs," September 19 132 

Jack Barr and his dogs 142 

Carl Rungius and his big moose 142 

Plateau Mountain in August 150 

MacMillan River and Dromedary Mountain photographed from 

the slope of Kalzas Mountain 150 

Running through the ice in MacMillan River 150 

Looking toward the Meade Glacier, June 17 171 

Mrs. Hosfall taking in the salmon net 182 

Nahanni House, July 22 190 

Indian camp on bank of Pelly, July 20 ' . 190 

The Hosfall family, 1909 190 

Looking up the Lapie River, July 25 200 

"The glories of the Pellys were spread out before me," July 27 200 

" In front of them were piled precipice upon precipice " (colored 

plate) 206 

"He stopped long enough to receive a bullet in his heart," 

July 29 214 

"He remained doubled up and almost suspended," July 29 . . 214 

"The ram simply stiffened out without rising and died," July 29 216 

"Niche in the side of a splintered wall," July 29 216 

Camp in the Pellys, Tom Jefferies, July 28 218 

"Standing in the smoke of the fire to rid himself of flies." Jefferies 

under the shelter, August i 218 

"After five jumps fell dead," August 2 226 



XX ILLUSTRATIONS 



FACING PAGE 



"I suddenly stepped forward . . . and pressed the bulb," 

August 3 230 "V 

"The big dark one was leading. He fell dead to my shot." 

August 6 242 j 

"He was the whitest of all and I killed him in his tracks," 

August 6 242 

"Finding him among the willows, almost at the foot," August 7 244 • 

Ewes seeking shelter from approaching storm (colored plate) . . 251 ^ 

Towing up the Ross River, August 23 260^. 

Head of Provost Canon. Big rock at right where accident hap- 
pened 260 

Lewis Lake. Direction — 'South-west, August 29 264 ' 

Field Lake, Mount Sheldon, August 29 264 

"Sheldon Lake at the foot of Mount Sheldon which towers up 

from its shore," August 31 266 

"Time had fashioned the precipice walls in thousands of fan- 
tastic shapes," September 4 272 

*'A vast ampitheatre of perpendicular walls falling more than 

3,000 feet to a lake of sapphire blue," September 4 . . . 272 

Camp at foot of Mount Riddell, September 6 274 

Indian cache near a bar of the Ross River, September 8 . . . 274 

The Rose Mountains, July 20 278 

Mr. Rose and his cabin, September 12 278 

"Dropped almost at my feet," September 17 284 

Jefferies cabin, September 19 284 

Looking down on "Detour" of Pelly — ranges along MacMillan 

in distance, September 23 286 

Glenlyons toward south-west — Tay River mountains in distance, 

September 23 286 

Highest peaks of Glenlyons opposite Tay River, September 23 . 290 

Glenlyons looking south from same point, September 23 . . . 290 



ILLUSTRATIONS xxi 



FACING PAGE 



Camp in Glenlyons, September 29 292 

Ready to load the canoe. Glenlyons across river, October 2 . 292 

Indian grave on bank of Pelly, 25 miles above mouth of Mac- 

Millan, October 3 294 

Trappers' line cabin on MacMillan Mountain, October 5 . . 294 

Moose trail on top of the MacMillan Mountains, October 5 . 294 

Junction of MacMillan and Pelly Rivers as seen from top of 

MacMillan Mountain, October 5 296 

MacMillan Mountains, October 5 296 

Plate illustrating distribution of sheep in areas indicated on map 299 



MAPS 



FACING PAGE 



Map of Coal Creek, shoveing author's hunting camp in the 

Ogilvie Rockies 4 

Map of MacMillan River, showing author's hunting camps . . 84 

Map of Ross River, showing author's hunting camps, including 

that in Pelly Mountains 178 

Map of Yukon Territory, adjacent portions of Alaska, British 
Columbia, and North-west Territories, showing distribution 
of sheep according to their colors 299 



THE OGILVIE ROCKIES 



To sit on rocks, to muse o'er flood and fell, 
To slowly trace the forest's shady scene, 
Where things that own not man's dominion 

dwell. 
And mortal foot hath ne'er or rarely been; 
To climb the trackless mountain all unseen, 
With the wild flock that never needs a fold; 
Alone o'er steeps and foaming falls to lean; 
This is not solitude; 'tis but to hold 
Converse with Nature's charms, and view her 

stores unroH'd. 

— Byron. 



CHAPTER I 

THE TRIP TO THE OGILVIE ROCKIES— 1904 

The mountain sheep of America are among the noblest 
of our wild animals. Their pursuit leads the hunter into 
the most remote and inaccessible parts of the wilderness 
and calls into play his greatest skill and highest qualities 

of endurance. 

My first experience with sheep was in northern Mexico, 
where they dwell among the isolated groups of rugged 
mountains that rise abruptly from the great waterless des- 
erts — deserts beautiful in their wealth of color, weird in the 
depth of their solitude, impressive in their grim desolation. 
It was there that I became fascinated by the exhilaration 
of the sport of hunting the wild sheep, and dominated by 
the desire of following them in other lands. 

I was familiar with what had been written about the 
white sheep, Ovis dalli, of Alaska, and the darkest of the 
American sheep, Ovis stonei, of the Stikine water-shed in 
northern British Columbia; and when in 1901 still an- 
other form of sheep, Ovis fannini, was described from the 
ranges of the Canadian Rockies in Yukon Territory — an 
animal with a pure white head and gray back — I decided 
to explore for it if the chance ever offered. Indeed, so 
little was known about the variation, habits, and distribu- 

3 



4 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

tion of the wild sheep of the far northern wilderness, that 
my imagination was impressed by the possibilities of the 
results of studying them in their native land. There was, 
besides, the chance of penetrating new regions, of adding 
the exhilaration of exploration to that of hunting, and 
of bringing back information of value to zoologists and 
geographers, and of interest to sportsmen and lovers of 
natural history. 

The opportunity came in the summer of 1904. A party 
was organized composed of the artist, Carl Rungius, who 
has so faithfully painted our large game animals in their 
true environment; Wilfred H. Osgood, of the Biological 
Survey, a trained naturalist of reputation, and myself. 

Late in June we sailed from Seattle and proceeded over 
the well-known route to Dawson, purchasing provisions 
for the trip in Skagway, and going over the White Pass and 
Yukon Railway to Whitehorse, where we took one of the 
large river steamers to Dawson. Learning that the game 
in those parts of the Ogilvie Rockies east of Dawson, at 
the head of the Klondike River, had been disturbed by 
winter hunting to supply meat to the Dawson market, we 
decided to go to the head of Coal Creek, which has its 
source in the heart of an unknown part of the Ogilvies, and 
enters the Yukon about sixty miles below Dawson. 

We purchased six horses together with packing equip- 
ment, and secured the services of two men, Charles Gage 
and Ed Spahr, to accompany us as packers. After sev- 
eral days of tedious delay, it was finally announced that 
the small steamer Prospector would start down river at 
5 p. M., July 7. In due time, therefore, we loaded our 



C/ ji^ ^^ gK^ 














THE TRIP TO THE OGILVIE ROCKIES 5 

horses and outfit on the boat, put on our hunting clothes, 
and went aboard just before the Prospector pulled out from 
the wharf on schedule time. We soon passed through pict- 
uresque parts of the river where it narrows and runs be- 
tween high cliffs, and farther down between high rolling 
ridges on each side, until at 8.30 p. m. we reached Forty 
Mile. Going ashore, we tried to get information from 
some of the residents as to the abundance of game and the 
possibility of travelling up Coal Creek. It was freely 
given, but conflicting. After a short stop at Forty Mile we 
left with a vague idea that It would be best to follow up 
the main branch of the creek and push on till we found 
the sheep country. We soon reached the mouth of Coal 
Creek, six miles below, tied up to the bank, unloaded our 
horses and outfit, and erected our tents on a high bank 
close to the water. 

One of the North-west Mounted Police was located 
there, living In a tent, doing his own cooking, and remaining 
practically inactive until the fall, when the river is closed 
to navigation. He was there to police the coal mines and 
keep a check on all people passing down the river who had 
not reported at Forty Mile. Though this practice stopped 
soon after, during the first years of the rush into the coun- 
try, the North-west Mounted Police, distributed at inter- 
vals along the Yukon River, took the names and destina- 
tions of all people passing In boats, summoning them to 
the shore If necessary, and kept a fairly good record of all 
who were travelling in the country. 

Coal had been discovered a few years before, twelve 
miles up the South Branch of Coal Creek; and two years 



6 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

previous to our arrival, a mine was opened, coal chutes and 
boarding-houses for men were erected at the mouth of the 
creek, and a narrow-gauge railroad was loosely constructed 
up to the mine. During the summer a small steamer kept 
hauling barges of coal to Dawson to accumulate it there 
for the winter supply of fuel. 

At this point the Yukon River bends in a sharp 
curve and is surrounded on all sides by fairly high 
mountains, which may be the cause of the constant rain 
at that exact spot, even when the sky is clear a few miles 
above and below. Not more than a mile below, a spur 
of the main interior range rising about three hundred 
feet above timber-line, extends nearly down to the river, 
and sheep are said sometimes to wander there in win- 
ter. I heard that there was a well-defined sheep trail 
on the top. Game is very scarce everywhere along the 
Yukon, but occasionally a black bear is seen, and in that 
particular vicinity I learned that one had shortly before 
appeared on the opposite side of the river; also that 
two had been killed a few miles up the railroad. Moose 
at times are seen along the river, and just below Coal 
Creek is a canon, extending down between ridges from 
the mountain spur, where a few days previous the Ind- 
ians from Forty Mile had killed a cow moose. By in- 
vitation I slept in the tent of Mr. Jones, the policeman; 
but before retiring we had tried to get some information 
about the interior country from various men employed on 
the railroad and at the mines, only learning, however, of 
one point where we should leave the railroad to reach the 
main branch of Coal Creek. 



THE TRIP TO THE OGILVIE ROCKIES 7 

July 8. — As we were cooking breakfast early the next 
morning, it commenced to rain and, much to our disgust, 
continued all day. We could not start with horses that 
were "green" and too tender to endure the pack with wet 
backs and, besides, the trail began in a swamp. Hence the 
day was passed testing our rifles and wandering about with 
shot-gun and fishing-rods. A few graylings were taken, 
and this first tramping gave us an impression of the dif- 
ficulty of taking pack-horses through the thick woods. 
Osgood had a large supply of traps for small mammals, 
and it was his object to collect as many of the mammals, 
birds, and plants as possible. Many people visited us in 
camp that evening, but none could give the coveted in- 
formation which might assist us to find a good route into 
the country we wished to reach. 

July 9. — In the morning we were up at five and, after 
breakfasting, packed the horses and made a start, follow- 
ing an old road through a swamp, very muddy and soft, 
to the railroad tracks half a mile above. The horses, 
unused to packing, were very excitable and did not go 
well. They were all large and had been used in the 
winter stage-service between Dawson and Whitehorse 
until each had become unsound and disqualified; yet they 
were still serviceable for pack-horses — at least, they were 
the best we could get. Caribou, an old white horse once 
used for packing over the White Pass trail, proved to be 
sagacious, very sure on his feet, the best "rustler" of all, 
and very quickly became the leader when they were 
turned loose. Old Mike, a bay, was steady and gentle, 
fairly sure-footed, but rather slow. Danger, a large bay, 



8 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

had never carried a pack. He was sure-footed, willing, 
but had an annoying habit of constantly picking feed 
when being led, and the conformation of his back was 
not adjustable to the aparejo, which kept it sore all the 
time. Nigger, a black, had never carried a pack, was 
clumsy on his feet, and had a tendency to jump at critical 
places. Shorty, a dark bay, was the best pack-horse of all. 
He followed well without leading, and though constandy 
lying down at every pause, would get up without shifting 
his pack. He was the pet, and always kept nosing about 
for sugar and bits of bread. Schoolmarm, a dark bay 
mare, not accustomed to the pack, carried a Mexican 
saddle on which were packed trifles and lighter material. 
Each of us travelled on foot leading a horse, while Shorty 
was driven ahead of the man in the rear. None of the 
horses had worked for a long time, and the first day was 
very trying for them. All kept lying down at every op- 
portunity, thus showing great distress under their packs; 
it was difficult to lead them, and leading was necessary in 
that country. 

Soon after emerging from the swamp and coming out 
on the railroad tracks, we reached Coal Creek and first 
learned the difficulty and danger of fording. The stream 
was swift and deep, and Rungius, falling in the ford, was 
nearly carried down. Again we passed through a swamp 
for two and a half miles, and, coming out on the track, 
proceeded up the railroad and arrived at some log cabins, 
called Robinson's Camp, twelve miles from the mouth, 
about noon. While we lunched, a prospector who was 
loitering about, volunteered to show us the way to the main 




Photograpli by Carl Rungius. 

ISTorth-West Mounted Police on Yukon River below mouth of Coal Creek, July 8. 




Photograph by W . H. Osgood. 



By permission of the U.S. Piological Survey. 

Fording Coal Creek. 



THE TRIP TO THE OGILVIE ROCKIES 9 

branch of the creek, and in the afternoon we again started, 
reached the creek, forded it, and found a blazed trail on 
the opposite side which we followed all day as best we 
could, now and then losing it and going on independently. 
The woods were dense and most of the ground was covered 
with soft, dry sphagnum moss through which the horses 
would sink six inches or more at each step, and which 
made the travelling tiresome for ourselves. We encoun- 
tered this soft mossy ground at intervals most of the way. 
It is common on the sides and even the tops of the moun- 
tains until well into the divide ranges. Small spruces 
always grow in it, and, in places, huckleberries. Fording 
the creek back and forth, often chopping small trees and 
thick brush, we kept on until evening, when we found a 
little grass for the horses and camped by the side of the 
creek. It was daylight all night, except for three hours 
about midnight, as the sun went below the horizon, and 
then, for a short time, there was a fine twilight. 

Thus far along the creek were balsam, poplar, white 
spruce, willow, and alder trees; flowers of various kinds 
and vetches were abundant. The creek was from sixty 
to a hundred feet wide; its banks were in some places 
rough and steep, and in others bordered by long, rocky 
bars. The mountains, covered with spruces, rose from 
the level country below, about a mile back from the river 
on the north side, and nearer to it on the south. The river 
was swift and deep; the temperature of the water about 
forty degrees Fahrenheit. During the day we noticed a few 
very old moose tracks and bird life was scarce. We only 
saw a pair of solitary sandpipers, a few spotted sandpipers, 



10 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

some Alaska jays, and a rough-legged hawk. After we 
had pitched the tents and had some tea, I took my rifle and 
went up the creek, but returned after two hours, having 
seen no signs of active animal life except a few birds. 

July 10. — We packed and started late the next morning, 
still endeavoring to follow the blazed trail, v/hlch we had 
been told would lead to an abandoned logging camp, six- 
teen miles up the river. Here and there we could pick it up 
and follow It for a short distance, but most of the time we 
travelled independently, following the bars of the river, 
fording It many times, while the woods on both sides were 
so thick that Gage was constantly obliged to go ahead and 
cut a trail so that the horses could get through with their 
packs. Runglus and myself wore leather moccasins, the 
worst possible footgear in which to ford these northern 
rivers, where the current runs from six to ten miles an 
hour over an extremely rocky bottom on which the smooth 
moccasins slip almost as if on ice. In many places it 
would have been dangerous to fall, since a foothold could 
not be regained and one might become entangled In the 
driftwood or hurled against rocks while being carried down 
the continuous rapids. The others wore hobnail shoes, 
the only thing in which to travel along rocky rivers which 
have to be forded. Time after time we saved ourselves 
from falling by holding onto the horses, for they had no 
difficulty in keeping a solid footing. 

Most of the day was perfect, though a light thunder 
shower fell in the evening. Soon after starting we saw 
the old track of a black bear; later we killed a porcupine 
and two Alaska Spruce grouse. We ate the porcupine 



THE TRIP TO THE OGILVIE ROCKIES ii 

flesh that night and found it excellent, though rather too 
rich. The character of the country continued the same, 
and a few birches began to appear where we lunched. 
We were somewhat worried because of the scant grass for 
the horses which, however, had become more accustomed 
to their packs and were going much better. A small black 
gnat now appeared, and greatly worried them, attacking 
their chests, bellies and legs, and causing the blood to run 
freely. Temporary relief was afforded by rubbing them 
well with wagon grease, brought for this purpose. One 
horse had cast a shoe and after replacing it we kept on 
through mossy, swampy muskeg that lay on both sides 
of the creek, until camp was made near some low but 
very rough mountains which came close to the creek. 
The creek continued to be of about the same width, and as 
we approached the mountains its abrupt descent made 
the fording more difficult. We slept at eleven, and did not 
start until 11.30 in the morning. 

July II. — Getting breakfast, gathering in the horses 
(which, owing to the scanty grass, had to range some 
distance for feed), and packing always required two or 
three hours or more. Having completely lost all signs 
of the blazes that marked the route, we worked our way 
up the creek for a mile to a point where rocky bluffs shut 
in so close that we were obliged to climb around them 
and proceed along a steep mountain side. While wading 
the horses around a point in the stream, where it dashed 
in rapid descent through a rather wide canon. Danger^ 
the horse in the lead, went around safely, but Nigger lost 
his footing and fell in the water, so that we were com- 



12 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

pelled, after getting him out and fixing his pack, to go on 
with these two along the bank, not caring to risk return- 
ing around the point. The other horses were not per- 
mitted to attempt it and were taken up the slope on a 
good game trail. It was necessary soon to take Danger 
and Nigger up a very steep ridge where Nigger lost his 
footing and rolled down about fifty feet. The pack was 
uninjured, but we had to remove it and use Danger to 
take it up the incline. Then, when trying to lead Nigger 
up, he again lost courage and, rearing, fell backward and 
rolled down some distance, but received no injury other 
than a bad cut on a hind leg, which later did not seem 
to trouble him. All this made considerable delay, but 
finally we again got under way and soon found a good 
game trail on the slope along which, with some chopping, 
we passed and descended into a swamp where we picked 
up the blazed trail. This swamp continued some miles 
and was extremely difficult to travel through. Fortu- 
nately, it had not rained sufficiently to make it impassable 
and we were able to get through, though not without 
much exasperating delay, owing to the bogging of the 
horses and the consequent repacking or constant read- 
justment of the packs. 

Late in the afternoon we emerged at a point where 
Coal Creek forks; the main branch coming from the 
north, the other of almost equal volume from the west. 
A few hundred large spruce trees near here had been cut 
the preceding winter, and most of the logs had been 
driven down in the spring to a movable saw-mill, where 
they were sawed into lumber to be used in the coal mines 



THE TRIP TO THE OGILVIE ROCKIES 13 

and docks. At the Forks we saw two king salmon, 
which were just beginning to run up the creek. Soon two 
men appeared, who had come more directly across the 
country from Robinson's Camp the same day, to count 
the remaining logs piled on the bank near the river. 
They could give us no information about the country 
farther up, except to say that five miles ahead there was 
a canon which would block the progress of pack-horses, 
and beyond it the mountains were too rough for our 
method of travel. Here, at last, we found an abundant 
supply of good grass for the horses, and from there on 
it was plentiful and of good quality. Mosquitoes were 
beginning to be bothersome, though not yet a pest. 
The country was wilder; the mountains, which rose in 
ridges and formed spurs of the main range, were nearer 
the creek and were covered with spruces and poplars. 

After taking a bite to eat, I started with my rod to try 
for graylings in front of the cabins, and quickly landed 
seven of fair size from one pool. Graylings were abun- 
dant in all the large pools clear up to the head of the 
river. I even saw several a half mile below the melting 
snow, near the extreme source of the creek. Those 
caught usually averaged from eight ounces to a pound 
in weight. They are quite shy and generally lie at the 
foot of the more rapid water of the pools or in the eddies 
— always where the surface is smooth. They quickly 
start to take the fly, but with no snap, just rising to the 
surface to grasp it in a sluggish manner, and once hooked 
they have no more play than a chub. I have never found 
them a game fish or worth catching except for food, and 



14 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

then only when other meat is lacking. As a fish for the 
frying pan they are most inferior, for when cooked they 
are soft and have not much flavor. It is said that later 
in the fall they become harder, and perhaps that is so, 
but on the whole I am convinced that they could never 
satisfy the taste of one accustomed to trout, bass, or even 
perch. Still, they do afford a relief from bacon and beans, 
and when travelling in the north I have always been 
glad to get them. After catching a mess of grayling, I 
took my rifle and made a wide circle around a ridge 
behind the cabins, seeing abundant old moose tracks, 
two or three olive-backed thrushes, and a few juncos and 
red squirrels. Returning to camp about 10.30 at night 
I took the rod again and quickly captured three more 
graylings from the same pool, even after Rungius had 
just caught some before me. At 11.30 I rolled under 
my blanket, beginning to realize that the continual day- 
light caused irregular hours. It did not, however, inter- 
fere with sound sleep. 

July 12. — Starting up the creek we found it was 
becoming narrower and swifter, descending more rapidly. 
We travelled on bars, fording back and forth, often cut- 
ting trails through the woods until we reached the en- 
trance to the canon five miles up. We had passed be- 
yond the signs of man, except now and then the evidence 
of a trapper or an Indian. Near the canon the moun- 
tains were higher, some rising above timber-line, where 
the sides and tops were smooth and mossy, and in some 
places covered with snow. As we loitered for a few 
moments on a bar in the creek, I scanned the side of the 



THE TRIP TO THE OGILVIE ROCKIES 15 

mountain ahead through my field-glasses and saw a 
grizzly bear passing along the slope high above timber- 
line. That was my first sight of game in the northern 
wilderness. The attention of the others was called to it 
and we watched it for fifteen minutes as it travelled 
steadily until lost to sight in a cafion. We made camp at 
the foot of the canon, and after supper Rungius, Spahr, 
and Gage went to locate a route around the cafion and, 
if necessary, to cut out and prepare a trail. I waded 
the river, passed through the woods to the mountain 
where I had seen the bear, and ascended to the point 
where it had disappeared. Moose and old caribou 
tracks were abundant; the ground, covered with lichens 
(commonly called caribou-moss), was very soft in places, 
and high up in the poplars was a grouse. Mounting 
this slope I realized for the first time the seriousness of 
the mosquito pest of the far North. They swarmed and 
buzzed and completely covered my clothes so that large 
spaces of my coat and trousers quickly became black 
with them. I covered my neck with a handkerchief and 
smeared my face and hands with gun grease, but this 
afi^orded no relief. 

I saw no sign of the bear and, unable to find its trail 
on the hard ground, I came at last to the peak of the 
mountain. From there the main ranges in the distance 
were revealed, all snow-capped and striped with irregu- 
lar bands of snow, extending east and west as far as the 
eye could see, thrilling me with eager anticipation to be 
among them. I descended, fighting the mosquitoes, 
which followed me nearly to the river, and reached camp 



i6 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

at 10 p. M. The others had returned and reported that 
by lightening the packs and making a double trip we 
could pass on the slopes above the caiion which was not 
two miles long. 

Just after going under my blanket, short, thrush-like 
notes pealed out in the sleeping woods, sweet and very 
beautiful. They came from the varied thrush — the first 
and last time I heard it — but the music lingered with me 
all through the summer. 

July 13. — We went to sleep with the elated feeling 
that we were on the edge of the game country. The 
next morning we found that the horses had crossed the 
river, and some time was required to find and bring them 
back. Each night two were hobbled and bells were 
attached to two others. They seldom wandered far from 
camp. They were now more hardened to the work and 
very gentle, easy to catch, and, on the whole, a fairly 
satisfactory lot for this kind of trip. We put half-packs 
on the horses and led them around the steep slopes above 
the cafion without difficulties worth mentioning, and 
finally descended abruptly to its head, where we made 
camp. After eating, Spahr and Gage returned with the 
horses to bring up the remainder of the outfit; Run- 
gius set out to climb a mountain; Osgood stayed in camp 
to prepare specimens of small mammals that he had 
taken in his traps; and I started up river to look over 
the country ahead and find the best route for the next 
day. Old moose tracks were now abundant on the bars, 
and those of the black bear were common. The travel- 
ling had improved, and from the head of the canon to the 



THE TRIP TO THE OGILVIE ROCKIES 17 

source of the river, except for the constant fording, con- 
tinued excellent, so we could proceed more rapidly and 
with fewer delays for adjusting the packs. 

We were camped on a bar in a beautiful spot among 
willows and poplars, surrounded by high mountains, on 
a curve of the creek above the caiion through which it 
rushed with a distant roar. Just before midnight came 
a thunder shower, followed by silence. Suddenly the 
olive-backed thrushes began to sing. All thrush songs 
awaken a deep feeling, a sense of the woods, of the wild, 
free life, the mysterious depths of the forest and the wild 
animals therein. The traveller in the wilderness feels 
their enchantment in proportion to the genuine quality 
of his love for that wild, lonely life. I fell asleep while 
the woods were still resounding with vibrant tones. The 
song was not heard again that year. 

July 14. — We started by making a difficult and dan- 
gerous ford, and then travelled along the bars, following 
well-beaten moose trails. These were continuous along 
the banks of the river on both sides, and like all animal 
trails took every advantage of the ground. It is usually 
unwise to deviate from them and try to select a better 
route, since one learns by experience that animals nearly 
always choose the best and most convenient places for 
travelling. None of the moose tracks on the bars were 
fresh, and everywhere were shed horns, showing that 
moose were there at the period of shedding in December 
and January. At the time of our visit most of them were 
in the lower country, nearer the Yukon River, about the 
lakes and flat lands, though now and then one wandered 



i8 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

up in the ranges to the head of a *'draw.'' Snow-shoe 
rabbits had been extremely abundant every day. We 
saw them jumping about the woods, and in the late after- 
noon they were skipping and feeding near the bars, 
where they eat the willow bark and the herbs growing 
everywhere among the willows. Wherever the willow 
and dwarf birch grew densely, their tops were trimmed 
over large areas as if cut off with a knife. • This is rabbit- 
cutting, about four feet from the ground, made when 
the snow is deep. We saw no lynxes, although their 
tracks were abundant on the bars. Bird life was very 
scarce at this time, and we saw but few varieties during 
the entire trip. 

Three miles above the canon a large branch rushing 
from the mountains on the east joins the creek. There 
we penetrated the main range and at last were in the 
Ogilvie Rockies. The mountains, peaked and jagged, 
piled up in cliffs and pinnacles, blotched with snow, 
furrowed by canons, extended high above timber-line and 
we realized that we were in the sheep country. The 
course of the ranges on the east side of the creek is east 
and west; on the west side the range nearest the creek 
runs north and south, throwing off spurs, equally lofty, 
east and west. In a general easterly and westerly direc- 
tion there is a series of five or six parallel ranges up to 
the divide, on which one could travel continuously, per- 
haps, for hundreds of miles south along the northern crest 
of the Rocky Mountains. The altitude of timber-line is 
about four thousand feet, and that of the summits varies 
from five to eight thousand feet. 




Photograph by Carl Kungius. 

"Across from camp the mountains were particularly rough," July 15. 




Photugrni.ih liy Carl Rungius. 

"The mountains . 



EXTENDED HIGH ABOVE TIMBERLINE," JULY I4. 



THE TRIP TO THE OGILVIE ROCKIES 19 

In exceptional places, where the rock has not been 
exposed, lichens extend clear to the summits. Here and 
there on the slopes, in the basins, and under the cliffs, the 
grass was green. Mosquitoes swarmed on the slopes a 
short distance above the creek. But where the sheep were 
we failed to see, though again and again we paused to 
search the country through our field-glasses. It rained 
hard all day, and for the first time we were soaked. Ex- 
cept for short stretches here and there along the river, 
where the spring floods had washed out the moose trails, 
the travelling was good, the ground hard, the trails well 
beaten. The fords were easier though more frequent. We 
made camp at six on the bank of the creek, between tower- 
ing mountains on both sides. Across from camp the 
mountains were particularly rough, and perpendicular 
cliffs rose to a great height, forming peaks. 

After supper Rungius went out to sketch a bit of 
landscape, Osgood to climb a mountain, and I to look 
for game. I followed up the river for four miles, care- 
fully scanning the mountains through field-glasses, but saw 
no animals. Here and there along the river banks were 
diggings where a bear had hunted the ground-squirrels, 
which, as we ascended to the higher country, were now 
beginning to appear. Osgood had found old sheep dung 
on the mountain, thus demonstrating the presence of 
sheep at some time, but both he and Rungius were a little 
discouraged at seeing no recent sign. 

As I returned I heard a constant chirping not far 
above camp and, approaching, saw a hawk-owl sitting 
in a tree. These owls were quite common everywhere 



20 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

along the river. It was midnight when we fell asleep, 
listening to the murmur and roar of the river. Thus far 
the thermometer had been registering between thirty 
and forty degrees for the lowest temperature during the 
night. 

July 15. — The next day, which was beautiful and 
clear, the traveUIng was still better; old moose tracks 
were even more abundant, and so were mosquitoes. 
Dwarf birch appeared more densely on the mountain 
slopes, the woods continued about the same, though the 
spruces were smaller. It was, for the first time, a positive 
pleasure to lead the horses. The trails were fine, hard 
moose trails, winding about between the mountains, and 
the fords were easy. We decided to stop and make 
camp early in the afternoon in order that each might 
climb a mountain to make a reconnaissance for sheep. 
After catching a few graylings I started to climb the 
ranges on the west side. Mosquitoes had become more 
abundant and troublesome as we travelled up the creek, 
but on the higher slopes they increased to a swarm. At 
this camp it was necessary, as a protection against them, 
to wear gloves and a netting falling from our hats to the 
shoulders. This proved perfectly satisfactory, for while 
wearing the netting one could look through the field- 
glasses and even sight well over the rifle. At times. In 
the sun, It was a little hot and occasionally one or two 
mosquitoes penetrated Inside; but on the whole It neu- 
tralized the mosquito evil with little Inconvenience, and 
in the wind, or cold of the early morning, when the 
mosquitoes were not active, it could be fastened up 




Looking up Coal Creek, July 15. 



Peak of Ogilvie Rockies, July 15. 




"We travelled on bars, fording back and forth," July 12. 



THE TRIP TO THE OGILVIE ROCKIES 21 

around the brim of the hat, ready to drop Instantly when 
needed. 

Following caribou and sheep trails I gradually as- 
cended to the top of the mountain and, not seeing fresh 
signs, seated myself and scanned the whole country about, 
but not an animal was visible. As all my hopes had 
been based on finding sheep on the divide ranges, I was 
not disappointed, and the scene was a compensation. 
The mountains extended in all directions, range after 
range, peak after peak, dome after dome. There were 
whole mountains in red; others of white limestone, re- 
lieved in places by streaks of iron-stained red rock, shin- 
ing in the sun; there were snow cornices glistening un- 
der every crest and precipice; bands of snow streaking 
the slopes. Interspersed with bright patches of green — 
a vast sea of ridges, basins, rock masses, and jagged 
crests all blending in wonderful harmony above the 
timbered valley of the curving stream. It was my first 
view from a summit of the Ogilvie Rockies. During my 
descent the fresh tracks of a cow and calf moose were 
seen at the head of a canon, and at eleven I came into 
camp. The others had seen no sheep signs. 



CHAPTER II 

ON THE SHEEP RANGES— 1904 

July 16. — From the mountain top I had traced the 
course of the creek to a point about four miles above 
camp, where it was lost behind an obstructing ridge 
which projected at right angles to the main ranges. 
There it was close to timber-line and evidently the main 
divide was not far up the stream. We decided to advance 
four miles, make a camp, and remain for a few days to 
investigate the country. Though obliged to ford the 
creek several times, we travelled mostly on the west 
bank, on the way shooting some willow ptarmigan — 
beautiful birds even in their inconspicuous summer 
plumage. Red-squirrels were more abundant as we pro- 
ceeded, although the spruces became smaller. Three 
miles from camp a large branch entered the creek, flow- 
ing from the east between high mountain ranges. A mile 
beyond this, where the main stream forked into two creeks 
of equal volume, was a small meadow, about three hun- 
dred feet wide, filled with excellent grass scattered among 
the clumps of willow and dwarf birch. It was early in 
the afternoon when we arrived, and some graylings were 
caught while lunch was being cooked. 

At 3.30 we left camp, each taking a different direc- 
tion to look for signs of game. I followed up the west 



ON THE SHEEP RANGES 23 

fork, with the intention of reaching the divide if possi- 
ble. The creek, fifteen to thirty feet wide, descended 
so abruptly that the source could not be far off. There 
were very few moose tracks so far up the creek, but sev- 
eral ptarmigan were flushed, some with young, and red- 
squirrels kept chattering as they skipped about. The 
tinkling notes of the water-ousel often sounded from the 
creek, and once the exquisite harlequin duck was seen 
floating down among the rocks in the foaming torrent. We 
had seen harlequin ducks all the way along the creek, 
and I have since come to associate these beautiful birds 
with wild, dashing, northern streams. The walking was 
excellent and, two miles up, the stream forked again, 
one branch coming from a basin to the south-west, the 
other from the west. Just below this junction was a 
canon, two hundred feet long, filled with snow and ice. 
I walked through it and found myself at the limit of 
timber, mosquitoes still swarming about me. Farther up 
the west fork I saw the diggings and fairly fresh dung of 
a grizzly, and a mile and a half farther on the creek 
broke out from vast, bare, rolling hills on the south, fed 
by numerous streams formed from the melting snow 
above the caiions and deep ravines. Here at last was 
the divide. From the summit could be seen the waters 
flowing into the Tatonduk River, or Sheep Creek as it 
is locally called, where it enters the Yukon River, 
below Eagle City. Coal Creek has its sources in the 
numerous small streams flowing together, all formed 
from melting snow in the surrounding mountains. 

The divide at this point was covered with green, rolling 



24 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

pastures, more than a mile wide and two miles long. On 
the south it was bordered by a high mountain chain, with 
a continuous jagged crest swelhng up into high peaks, 
from which numerous spurs projected at right angles, en- 
closing deep and narrow basins, the bottoms of which 
consisted of rolling meadows of green grass. On the north 
was a range of mountains, more broken by peaks, crags, 
and canons, all sloping down to Tatonduk River waters, 
finally forming a long, smooth, rolling ridge. Heavy 
banks of snow lined every crest and peak; the canons and 
ravines were filled with it and the mountain-sides appeared 
streaked with white. White limestone, dark, almost black, 
chert, and iron-stained rock, glowing red, all in sharp con- 
tract, characterize these northern ranges. The summit 
pastures sloped gently toward the west, where another 
creek, formed between the ridges, flowed on to the Taton- 
duk River. A mile down, looking through an opening in 
the timber, I could see the creek, filled with snow and ice, 
glistening under the sunlight like a bright lake, while 
beyond it flowed through vast meadows toward the 
north and again curved west at the foot of the ranges, not 
far distant, which separated the waters of the Peel River 
from those of the Yukon. Dwarf birch and willow were 
scattered about the smooth, green sward, whose surface 
was soft and broken by tiny rivulets flowing to the creek 
below. 

I seated myself and turned my field-glasses toward the 
south range. Suddenly within the field, two miles dis- 
tant, appeared four sheep feeding on the saddle below 
the peak of a spur connecting with the range. More care- 



ON THE SHEEP RANGES 25 

ful scrutiny proved them to be ewes. My first sight of 
the northern mountain-sheep! At last we were in the 
sheep ranges! As we had eaten no good meat except a 
few grouse and ptarmigan for eight days, and our bacon 
was being rapidly consumed, I immediately began a stalk, 
walking as rapidly as possible down the west slope of the 
divide on soft mossy ground, in some places miry and 
filled with willows. Now and then I paused to watch the 
sheep, which kept feeding quietly in the same place. At 
the northern end of the spur, then opposite me, the slope 
breaks, forming a cliff several hundred feet high, trav- 
ersing the end of the mountain east and west. This cliff 
curves at the eastern extremity, cutting the smooth slope 
which, at the brink, rises steeply in a succession of benches 
to the top of the spur-mountain. The spur encloses a 
beautiful basin of rolling meadows in an amphitheatre of 
mountains. 

I started to climb at the west edge of the cliffs, thereby 
keeping out of sight of the sheep. After climbing per- 
haps three hundred feet I looked up under the precipice, 
and at its base suddenly saw a grizzly bear walking on 
some snow toward the curving cliff, where it cuts the east 
slope. Quickly dropping, I almost slid to the foot, 
where I could conceal myself in the willows along the 
stream flowing from the basin. As the bear proceeded, I 
advanced parallel with it for about a hundred yards, 
until it climbed over a steep snow-bank to the top of the 
cliff and stood on the edge of the east slope. As it 
ascended this snow-bank I noticed a small cub playing 
about it. It was then 10 p. m. The bear stood for a 



26 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

moment on the highest bench at the edge of the cUff, about 
five hundred yards above me, and began to dig out a 
ground-squirrel. 

Ground-squirrels, Citellus plesius^ were everywhere. 
All the pastures and mountain slopes were filled with 
their holes and one was continually in sight of them, 
sitting straight up on their hind legs or running for their 
burrows. The most characteristic sound of the higher 
parts of the northern wilderness is their shrill chatter 
when they see a supposed enemy approaching, or when 
they disappear in their holes. 

Through the glasses the bear could be seen digging, 
making the earth fly in all directions. At times she would 
sit and dig, again rise and strike the ground in apparent 
anger, twist around, watch for a moment, and then begin 
digging again. The squirrels always have several holes, 
connected by underground channels, and the bear kept 
digging out one after another, now and then making a 
jump to the next, evidently knowing that the squirrel 
was about to run out. Then she would again dig, until, 
finally, the squirrel was pocketed, and the bear made a 
great pounce and grabbed it with both forepaws. As 
her back was turned, the operation of devouring her prey 
could not be seen. While the bear was digging for the 
squirrel, the cub raced about, now sitting still a moment, 
then jumping up and running off playing, quite indiffer- 
ent to the mother's task. 

After spending twenty minutes digging and tearing 
out the hard earth until she caught the squirrel, the bear 
stepped to the edge of the cliff, took a long look below. 



ON THE SHEEP RANGES 27 

started quartering down the slope, and disappeared. The 
wind was in my favor, so, after waiting five minutes, I 
started. The way was very steep, and because of the 
succession of benches it was impossible to see more than 
twenty or thirty feet above each one after it was reached. 
Holding my rifle cocked, expecting to meet the bear 
close as I came to the top of each bench, I climbed one 
after another, always very slowly to keep my breath for 
a steady shot, until I arrived on the last, when I saw 
the bear slowly walking along the upper surface of the 
basin close to the mountain-side, about three hundred 
yards ofl^. She kept an irregular course, often pausing 
and looking for ground-squirrels. I followed rapidly, try- 
ing to gain, but always stopping when she stopped, ready 
to drop low if she faced in my direction. After gaining a 
hundred yards, I sat down, rested my elbows on my 
knees, and aiming at her left hind quarter as she paused, 
fired, and heard the bullet strike her. She jumped, 
turned, and stood with forelegs extended forward, appar- 
ently panting. The cub at once began to run about 
bawling. The bear dropped to a sitting posture for a 
moment and then rose. I fired a second shot at her 
foreshoulder and heard the bullet strike her. She gave 
a great jump and stood until a third shot was fired, when 
she fell, kicked once or twice, and was dead. 

The cub was still running about crying, and I went 
slowly toward it, intending if possible to capture it for 
the New York Zoological Park. When within fifty feet 
the cub saw me. It ran around, looking at me with 
great curiosity, sniffing again and again, approached a few 



28 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

feet, then continued to run back and forth. Finally, as 
I kept coming closer, it stood on its hind feet, placed its 
forepaws on the dead mother and began spitting at me. 
I stooped low and crept within six feet, ready to place a 
noose, made from my belt and the straps from the kodak 
and field-glass, over its head, when suddenly it pushed 
forward its nose, sniffed at me several times in terror, 
turned and rushed up the mountain slope. I started to 
pursue, but it distanced me so rapidly that the chase 
was soon given up. 

No one who reads this experience should miss the 
significance of the cub's final action. It was a tiny cub, 
born the preceding winter, and could have received no 
impressions of human beings from experience. It did not 
fear the sight of man, but the scent of man immediately 
inspired it with terror. Fear of the odor of man was 
clearly an instinct. What was the origin of this instinct .? 
Surely, in that remote part of the country, the cub's 
ancestors could not have experienced a fear of the scent 
of man for generations numerous enough to have the 
trait registered in the nervous organization and fixed, 
so that it was transmitted by heredity to the young! 
This would require frequent repetitions of the experience, 
through too many generations, and it is not reasonable to 
believe this possible. In my opinion this instinct had its 
origin in a period so remote in the past that we have no 
facts at all to explain it, and we can only affirm its exist- 
ence, as clearly exhibited in this case. The instinct may 
include the fear of any strange scent as hostile. All bears 
with which I have had experience before or after, had 



ON THE SHEEP RANGES 29 

this same instinct, and I firmly believe that it was as 
potent In the grizzly bears encountered by Lewis and 
Clark as in those inhabiting remote regions at the present 
time. Casual observers have not always discriminated be- 
tween sight and scent as they affect the action of animals. 

It was then 11.30, and the mists had settled about 
the crest and extended half-way down the slopes. For 
a long time while I worked in the twilight, getting off 
the skin, and everything was hushed and still, the wail- 
ing cries of the cub sounded from the mountain top — 
a weird, wild noise In this mysterious solitude. At such 
an elevation it was very cold, and being lightly clad I 
soon became chilled and found difficulty in handling the 
bear alone, so the skin was not off until nearly two In the 
morning. The head was left in so that Rungius could 
sketch it. The bear was an old grizzly, fairly large, in 
excellent pelage for July; its claws were very long, and 
there was practically no fat on it. The first bullet 
shattered the hind quarter, penetrated through the vitals, 
and came out through a large hole in its side. The 
other two had struck within an inch of each other, both 
cutting the heart. Tired and cold, I shouldered the 
heavy skin and struggled back to camp, reaching It at 
5.30 in the morning. Rungius and Osgood, neither of 
whom had seen any game during the day, came out 
from the tent to see the skin and hear my story. 

The fire was started; tea, bacon, and bread refreshed 
me before the genial warmth. Now our hopes were 
brightened, and with the knowledge that we had found 
the game country all was enthusiasm. I soon rolled under 



30 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

my blanket, but for some time could not sleep. The 
experience of the night had deeply impressed me with 
the wild enchantment of the wilderness, the finding of 
the divide, the sublime mountains about it, the first 
sight of sheep, the unexpected meeting and killing of 
the bear, my experience with the cub; the charm of the 
location while skinning the bear high up on the green 
slope of the mountain in the midnight twilight; the 
absence of sound save the murmur of the creek below 
and the wailing of the cub pealing wildly through the 
mists above; the dim oudine of the summits of the 
mountains to the west, their peaks tipped golden by the 
sun low behind them; the mystery of all that unknown 
country; the strange and beautiful lights and shadows 
playing on the mountains encircling me; what more 
could a lover of the wilderness and its wild life demand ? 
July 17. — We decided to move up the west branch 
to the forks two miles above, and there make a perma- 
nent camp at a point I had selected the day before, on a 
high bank just at the junction, about a hundred feet 
below timber-line. It was a beautiful spot; clear, open 
pastures among the spruce trees were about us, numerous 
dead trees for firewood were near and excellent grass for 
the horses was everywhere. Mountains, with fantastic 
pinnacles, peaks, and rock-turreted slopes surrounded 
us, and the view down the creek was beautiful in the 
extreme, as we looked along the timber frieze between the 
high slopes to the massive ranges on the east. Above all, 
we were close to the divide and in the heart of the best 
hunting country. 



ON THE SHEEP RANGES 31 

Leaving the men to pitch the tents and make camp, 
Rungius and I went on to the divide. From there I could 
see the bear's carcass and, thinking the cub might remain 
near it, pointed it out to Rungius, who started to find and 
kill the cub. I went to climb a mountain on the south, to 
make a short reconnaissance and descend on the other 
side to camp. The top was a broad, level flat, rather 
swampy, and full of sheep and caribou tracks. Old cari- 
bou tracks covered the ground, and well-worn sheep-trails 
extended high up on the slopes, ridges, crests, and over 
or around all the peaks. Several small birds, unknown 
to me, were about, and the mice, a species known as 
Microtus operarius endceciiSy had made their tiny trails 
all through the grass. Conies, Ochotona coUaris, were 
heard and seen among the broken rocks of the slopes. 
Their short, thin bleat afterward became a familiar sound 
high up among the large broken rocks which they inhabit, 
even on the mountain tops. And numerous marmots 
were whistling their long, piercing calls. They were 
abundant everywhere, near broken rock and in the 
basins. 

Passing a little beyond I looked down on the large 
basin south of our camp, from which the other stream 
flows to make the junction. The divide creek and this 
one form the true source of Coal Creek, the volume of 
which is increased by the two large creeks entering two 
or three miles below. The area below me really consisted 
of two basins: one farther to the east, between two 
precipitous spurs; the other likewise lying in mountains, 
and much larger. At the bottom of the former were two 



32 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

exquisite clear lakes of several acres each, continually 
filled by the melting snow above. The latter was In the 
form of a great Irregular square, at least a mile wide. 
Undulating in gentle hills and wide green pastures, It 
produced an Impression of surpassing beauty, with great 
mountains encircling it, rising up In rocks and cliffs, 
culminating in sharp peaks perhaps the highest of those 
In the divide ranges. 

Except on the bare rocks, all the mountains were more 
or less covered with lichen-moss, which, In turn, was span- 
gled with exquisite small dots of flowers, some bright blue, 
some pink, and some crimson. Flowers abounded over 
all the mountain-slopes, basins, and valleys. Dryas was 
common everywhere, also a species of cranberry, Vacin- 
nium vitisidcea, the leaves of which were always slippery 
to walk on. I sat for some time looking about through 
my field-glasses, but saw nothing and, descending on the 
east side of the slope to the creek which runs through a 
deep gorge, had started toward camp when I met Osgood 
setting his traps for small mammals. 

Together we reached camp at ten, and found Runglus 
there with the body of the cub. He had seen it walking 
under the same cliffs and shot It. 

That night was clear and cold, the thermometer going 
to twenty-eight degrees before morning. When we first 
settled in this camp mosquitoes were at their worst and 
very troublesome. All of us slept under mosquito netting. 
The horses suffered the most, and we had to build several 
smudges and keep them going all day so that the animals 
could gather around them. If these smudges were not 




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ON THE SHEEP RANGES 33 

kept up, the horses would come about the tents and 
almost beg for them. They would stand about them all 
day, and feed mostly at night when the swarm tem- 
porarily retired from the cold. They scarcely ever went 
far from camp and constantly returned, as If coming back 
home, and It was not necessary to keep them hobbled. 
In a few days most of the mosquitoes seemed to leave the 
vicinity of the tents, though enough remained to compel 
us to take precautions to avoid them. 

July 18. — We were ready to start at eight In the 
morning; and, asking the men to flesh the bearskin, I 
started for the divide. Runglus had already preceded 
me. Intending to descend the stream on the other side. 
I can never endure a companion or a ''guide" when 
actually hunting. I want to be alone among the hills 
and wild mountains, with freedom to observe. In the 
solitude of the wilderness, the animals, birds, rocks and 
flowers become companions. I carried my rucksack, 
which contained a kodak, a sweater, a tin cup, tea, a 
little sugar, 1 chocolate, and a cracker. While hunting I 
never wore a coat, but could put on the sweater when 
It became cold. My footgear, leather moccasins, was 
nearly perfect for this country. Lightness and nolseless- 
ness were the main objects required, and moccasins were 
not slippery except on the bearberry or cranberry leaves, 
and at times on wet slopes. One soon learns how to 
walk In them, what ground to avoid, and how to descend 
over rock and grass slopes. My rifle was a Mannllcher, 
256 calibre — the same one that I had already used for 
big game during the three previous years. The car- 



34 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

tridges were jacketed with nickel, split at four places, and 
the lead was exposed at the tip. 

It was afternoon when I came out on the divide, and 
made directly for the bear's carcass, intending to climb 
the spur and ascend along the saddle to the crest of the 
main range. A few moose tracks were seen on the 
divide, made undoubtedly when the moose cross over, 
since feed is so scarce there that they never loiter. 
Near the carcass a marmot whistled; in many places 
ptarmigan were flushed, and Alaska jays, Perisorius can- 
adensis fumifronsy were abundant everywhere in the tim- 
ber, and in the willows above. A pair of golden eagles 
were soaring along the crest, always a beautiful sight 
and a constant feature of those northern ranges. 

The main range here extends parallel with the divide 
clear to the meadows of the creek on the west, perhaps 
twelve miles distant, and east to the north and south 
range on the west side of Coal Creek. The northern 
slopes, facing the divide, are very steep and broken into 
precipices and projecting spurs. The south slope, then 
visible for the first time, inclines somewhat evenly to 
another divide, broken here and there by gorges, and 
sends out an occasional spur. The rim of the crest is 
uneven, now rising into high peaks, now capped by 
jagged boulders and pinnacles, and again extending 
evenly for a hundred yards more, to the next peak. In 
places on the south side, before the incline becomes 
abrupt, are green pastures, where grass, weeds, and moss 
were abundant — all excellent feeding for sheep and cari- 
bou. The snow is confined to northerly slopes where it 



ON THE SHEEP RANGES 35 

occurs in cornices below the crest, under the cHffs, and 
in the hollows, gorges, and furrows. 

I walked along toward the west, carefully scanning 
the country ahead through my field-glasses. Mosquitoes 
swarmed as much as ever, even on the peaks. Soon a 
heavy rain fell and it was cold. I crouched under a 
rock, and in half an hour it ceased. Again I went for- 
ward, now crossing a pasture to examine the slopes below, 
then returning diagonally to the rim of the crest so that I 
could see the country on both sides. 

A cafion cutting the south slope was reached after 
three o'clock, and well below, eight hundred yards dis- 
tant on the other side, I saw twelve fairly large rams 
feeding in a grassy place on the slope. Immediately 
dropping low, I looked at them through the field-glasses. 
At last, before me was the main object of my trip to 
those northern wilds; beautiful they were, glistening 
white in the sun notwithstanding a brownish stain, and 
game in every motion. Most of them carried fair horns, 
well spread, and all had black tails. They fed nervously 
and kept constantly on the move, a few often running 
with alertness, and every moment one or another would 
throw up its head to look, either up or down. I re- 
mained motionless, flat on the ground, among some rocks, 
watching every movement. How to stalk them was a 
puzzle. The canon was deep with almost perpendicular 
sides and led up to the crest of the mountain before it 
could be crossed. It was not possible to descend and 
then stalk up in plain sight from below, and, besides, 
they were gradually feeding upward. Their movements 



36 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

soon solved the problem, for they were surely working 
up toward the crest and a little in my direction. 

Then they began to ascend faster and did not pause 
so much to feed. Some would suddenly run a short dis- 
tance, jump to a stand-still, and look. But I was well 
concealed and they did not see me. There was little 
wind and it was in my favor. Before I realized it, they 
had reached the top, five hundred yards away. All stood 
on the edge looking at the country below. 

Only those who have been high up above the valleys 
and woods, among the peaks and crags, and there have 
seen the mountain ram in his element, can appreciate 
the sight or realize the emotion surging through me as I 
beheld them. They stood like marble silhouettes, erect, 
rigid, on the sky-line of that wonderful landscape — the 
essence of boldness, grace, energy, self-confidence, wild- 
ness! For five minutes they were motionless, sweeping 
the country below with their keen eyes. Unless hidden 
from sight I do not believe any moving object could have 
escaped them. 

Then one jumped below the rim; the rest quickly 
followed ; there was a slight sound of falling rocks. They 
had disappeared like phantoms. Not then experienced 
in the habits of the northern sheep, I thought that my 
chance had come. They might come back, but it seemed 
more likely that they were seeking a spot to rest on the 
other slope, and shortly would reach some point in a 
place too rough for a stalk. After waiting a few moments, 
I started upward toward the head of the canon and had 
gone a hundred yards, when two small rams suddenly 



ON THE SHEEP RANGES 37 

reappeared on the crest. I dropped, but too late; they 
had seen me. By some note of alarm the others were 
attracted, all coming up with a spring, their eyes fastened 
on me as if by magic. The chance for a close shot was 
lost. 

One of the leaders started to run across the mountain- 
side, followed by the whole band. As they ran, I fired 
four times, and a smaller one turned and ran down the 
caiion, the rest keeping on toward a high peak. It was 
evident that the single one was wounded, for through 
the glasses blood could be seen about its head and fore- 
legs. Some were just disappearing, when four stopped 
under the peak and looked back, while the others went 
over the top. The wounded ram seemed to be walking 
with difficulty, yet kept slowly on to the bottom of the 
cafion, and then crossed to another mountain. Descend- 
ing half-way to the foot of the slope, I stopped, hoping 
that the ram would lie down; meanwhile, the other four 
high up near the peak were feeding. The wounded ram 
travelled some distance along the side of the mountain 
and lay down on a rock. I began to descend in plain 
sight (concealment was impossible), but he saw me from 
a long distance and was up and travelling at once. He 
crossed the mountain-side and disappeared high up over 
the other end. I went down, crossed the basin, and 
climbed the side of the mountain, but could see no sign 
of blood or tracks at the point where the ram was last 
seen, nor could he be seen even with the field-glasses. A 
short gully separated this mountain from another rough 
range, where he had probably gone and so escaped me. 



38 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

Back near the high peak I saw the four rams lying down 
on some high rocks near the top. 

I decided to descend to timber-line a couple of miles 
down the creek to pass the night, and climb for the rams 
early the next morning. I soon made a fire on the 
border of the forest, but there was no water near and it 
was necessary to descend a long distance to the stream 
for it. Having done this, and while cutting spruce 
boughs for a bed, the water on the fire was overturned 
and a second long trip to the creek was necessary. At 
midnight I had tea with half the chocolate and half the 
cracker. It was very cold and my short night was 
broken by intervals of sleeping and waking. As I fell 
asleep, the head-net would settle against my face and the 
mosquitoes would soon wake me. My tobacco had been 
lost, which was a real deprivation. The memory of the 
rams moving with virile gameness on the rocky slopes 
kept lingering between my snatches of sleep, until I rose, 
at five, and went half a mile down to a stream coming 
from a canon, which cut the slope I intended to ascend. 

The tea was quickly made from the tea-ball used the 
night before, and half a cracker and a small piece of 
chocolate provided my only food that day until late at 
night. After eating I began to work up the canon, now 
through deep gorges, now climbing around them, at 
length coming out at a point where the view was open 
for half a mile along the stream to the snow cornice, 
above which the crest continued to rise unevenly to the 
peak near where the rams had been loitering the evening 
before. On a steep slope, a hundred feet above the 




Bull caribou on mouxtaix ix Ogilvie Rockies. 

Drawing by Carl Rungius. 



ON THE SHEEP RANGES 39 

snow which filled the bed of the stream for a long dis- 
tance below the crest, were two large dark animals. My 
glasses showed them to be caribou; one very dark with 
striking horns, the other lighter, with horns more spike- 
like. The wind was blowing from me to them, and 
immediately I began to circle up the mountain side for 
the purpose of approaching with a favorable wind. The 
stalk was made slowly to a point above them and then 
directly down toward them, always in plain sight. They 
kept quietly feeding, keeping their heads close to the 
ground, without once raising them to look about in the 
manner of a deer, sheep, or moose. The sun was brightly 
shining and mosquitoes were so numerous that my head- 
net could not be removed. With more than necessary 
caution I advanced to within three hundred yards and 
took a sitting position, elbows on knees. Singling out 
the darker, larger-horned animal, I fired, and distinctly 
heard the bullet strike him. The ball struck his hind 
quarters, breaking one leg, passing through the stomach 
and out on the other side. As the animal had kept walk- 
ing and changing positions, this was the only good 
exposure presented for a shot. The other at once began 
trotting uphill, and I am somewhat ashamed to confess 
that I fired at it twice, and then, having cooled down, 
did not shoot again, but deliberately allowed it to go, 
thinking that I had missed. It soon stopped and looked 
back, then trotted ahead, pausing several times to uri- 
nate or look back, until it disappeared over the mountain 
range. The other was staggering, and in a moment 
dropped, rolled down the slope, and landed in the bed 



40 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

of the creek, which had cut a channel through the snow 
and Ice. 

I had great difficulty in pulHng the carcass up on the 
snow, where I photographed, measured, and gralloched 
it, pestered by dense clouds of mosquitoes attracted by 
the blood. I decided to leave the caribou where it was, 
and bring Rungius back the next day to sketch and 
study it in the flesh and get the impression of its natural 
environment. It was a fine large bull, in thick, dark 
summer-coat, its mane just beginning to turn white; its 
horns in velvet of a rich, dark, grayish-brown color, well 
palmated at the ends, with twenty-one points on one side, 
fourteen on the other, and both brow antlers particularly 
well developed, giving beauty and proportion to the head. 
The length of the caribou was seven feet, the height at 
foreshoulder four feet. These were the first caribou I 
had ever seen, except a glimpse I had had of four running 
through the thick woods of New Brunswick in 1897. The 
caribou of the Ogilvies were later identified by Osgood 
as the true barren-ground species — Rangijer arcticus. 

I continued the ascent on the snow directly up to the 
crest. Proceeding along the rising rim, I came to the 
final climb of perhaps five hundred yards, necessary to 
surmount the peak and command the mountain from 
above. This was the highest peak on the range border- 
ing the divide. Its north side consisted of cliffs, preci- 
pices, and steep slopes falling to a basin below. The 
top and southern slopes were all broken rock, stained so 
dark that, from a distance, in contrast to the others of 
the range, the mountain appeared black. The ascent 



ON THE SHEEP RANGES 41 

was not difficult, though caution was required not to make 
a noise while climbing over the broken rock. 

Going slowly to keep my breath, I came near the top, 
where the surface rose more gradually to form the point 
of the peak, when suddenly the heads and horns of a ram 
appeared on the sky-line to the right, not twenty feet 
away. He looked at me for a moment and disappeared 
with a spring. Hastening to the point I saw a fine ram 
running ahead of three smaller ones directly up the peak. 
He stopped only a few feet below the summit. Seating 
myself, I aimed quickly and fired. He dropped, rolled a 
few yards, and was caught In the broken rock. The 
others disappeared around the slope beyond. Running 
forward over the loose rock on the steep Incline, I caught 
him by the horns and held him while he was kicking In 
death struggles, to prevent him from rolling down. The 
bullet had passed through his foreshoulders at the base 
of the neck. He was a very fat ram of seven or eight 
years, with shapely, spreading horns. His tail was black, 
his body pure white, though the short new pelage was 
stained brownish from the ferruginous rock. 

My exultation at this first success in accomplishing 
the purpose of my trip was complete. For some time I 
sat looking at the wonderful landscape about and below 
me. On every side stretched the mountain ranges until 
the vision was lost In a sea of tumbled peaks, all dotted 
and patched with the glistening snow; below were basins 
and wild, green valleys clothed with green and bluish 
timber — a vast, silent, wilderness reaching on the east 
to the Mackenzie River, on the west to the Yukon. 



42 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

After photographing the ram as he fell I made a 
hollow in the rocks a few feet below, dragged him down 
to it, and began taking off his skin. It soon began to 
shower and grow cold with gusts of wind. Two ravens 
circled about almost in frenzy as I worked, and at times 
a golden eagle sailed along the crest and soared above. 
Packing the skin and head in the rucksack, I descended 
the precipitous and rocky east side of the peak to the 
edge of the north rim, hoping to find some descent to 
the basin below from which the divide pastures could be 
gained. Resting every few steps on account of my load, 
I finally reached the grass slope, which, after the rain, was 
very slippery and managed to zigzag down to the gorge 
of a stream at the foot of the mountain. While resting 
there, what was my disgust to notice that my field-glasses 
had been left above at the carcass, so it was necessary 
to return for them. Again descending and picking up 
my load I tramped two miles up the swampy, brush-cov- 
ered ground across the next divide, and descended toward 
camp. Lack of food, long hours of climbing, together 
with the chill and wetting by showers, had so weakened 
me that my legs almost gave out and obliged me to rest 
every few steps while walking up the soft ground of. the 
divide. Camp was reached at 10.30 at night, and rest 
before a large fire, food, and my pipe restored my 
strength. 

The day before, Rungius, while climbing the south 
range of the divide, had seen three rams running up a 
round, smooth mountain on the north side and followed 
them. They saw him, ran over on the other side, and 




- > 



ON THE SHEEP RANGES 43 

disappeared. Arriving at the top he saw a large band 
of ewes feeding near, and killed four. Both he and 
Osgood had returned to the same place with Spahr, 
Gage, and two horses to bring back the meat. The 
ewes were still loitering about, and Osgood had killed 
one. The heads, skins, and meat had been brought 
back to camp and the larder was well stocked. 

Some of the ewes killed were pure white; others had 
many gray hairs on the back, and stripes down the legs, 
intermediate in color between Ovis dalli and Ovisfannini, 
and all had black tails. 

July 20. — The next day we all remained in camp, 
skinning and preparing the specimens. In the morning, 
after Rungius had made several sketches of my ram's 
head, I skinned it. Jays now flocked about us in great 
excitement, feeding on the raw meat and other camp 
refuse. Red squirrels also were attracted, and mosqui- 
toes were still with us. 

We were feasting on meat. To my taste the meat of 
mountain sheep, killed between July and October, easily 
excels that of any othe^r game animal on this continent. 
It is rich, fat mutton with a game flavor. Nor do I tire 
of it as of venison; for a continuous diet never dimin- 
ished my eagerness for it. After October, and until late 
in June, it is not so good, and during the winter and 
spring months very poor, quite without flavor. 

Until we left this camp the days were warm, some- 
times hot, and at night the lowest temperatures registered 
by the thermometer varied from twenty-eight to forty de- 
grees above zero Fahrenheit. It never rained contin- 



44 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

uously, but often showered. On the mountain crests it 
was usually very cold all through the day, especially when 
the wind blew. 

July 21. — After breakfasting Rungius, Gage, and I 
started to get the caribou head. Spahr was to follow 
with two horses and wait at the foot of the divide for 
us to bring it down to him. After we reached the sum- 
mit and were proceeding down the gentle descent, forty 
or fifty ewes and lambs were seen feeding on a grassy 
slope of the rough mountain to the north. This was part 
of the band Rungius and Osgood had disturbed. On 
the mountain side, several hundred feet up on a bank of 
snow, we saw a black spot which Rungius thought was 
an animal. The field-glasses confirmed this, but we 
could not make out what it was, because it was lying 
down. It seemed too small for a moose, and its horns 
could only be suspected. Rungius started forward to 
stalk it, and went rapidly down the divide, then climbed 
the side of the mountain and gradually approached the 
snow-bank. Watching through the glasses I saw the 
animal rise, stand a few moments, and walk aimlessly a 
few feet away from the snow, quite unconscious of dan- 
ger. Soon we heard a shot, then two more, and it fell. 
It was a yearling cow caribou, and almost black. We 
gralloched and left it to be brought to camp later by 
the horses, where Rungius could sketch it. 

We then went through the timber at the lower end of 
the divide, crossed a ridge and entered a small, deep 
basin, flushing ptarmigan at short intervals, and climbed 
a very steep slope opposite the carcass of the caribou. 



ON THE SHEEP RANGES 45 

which was on the other side of the crest. In this and 
the other basins, in the pastures, and on the clear areas, 
grizzly bear diggings were abundant. More grizzly bears 
come to such places to dig out squirrels early in the spring 
than at other seasons, and by June they begin to roam 
and are not often seen. The b'iar already killed was the 
last we saw on that trip. Abundant diggings, however, 
do not indicate abundance of bears, as one will dig over 
much country. All the diggings that I saw near the 
divide could have been made by two or three bears. 

We reached the crest and, going forward, looked down 
a few hundred yards below on the snow where the carcass 
lay. Not far below it, on a bank of snow close to the 
creek, was a small ram standing rigidly, with apparent 
alertness, looking up directly at us. Rungius at once 
started to circle around the slope and stalk him. The ram 
at times kept licking the snow, now and then looking up 
at us, and I could not understand his indifference. We 
saw Rungius, when he had approached sufficiently near, 
sit down and fire. The ram jumped as if hit, and walked 
on the snow out of sight, while Rungius ran and dis- 
appeared in the gorge. Gage and I hastened down and 
saw him sitting near the dead ram. The bullet having 
passed through its hind quarters, it had been unable to 
escape. It proved to be the young ram I had wounded 
and followed three days before. My bullet had struck 
and shattered his lower jaw and he was unable to eat. 
The poor creature was already reduced to skin and 
bones, and had evidently suffered from thirst. He had 
wandered back to find the band, but was growing too 



46 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

weak to travel and would shortly have died. I felt great 
pity for him. 

Could the sportsman but know the suffering of the 
animals he wounds but fails to get — a too common expe- 
rience — would his enthusiasm diminish ? The hunter- 
sportsman is a strange combination, possessed by the 
fascination of hunting and killing the animals that he 
loves — for every true hunter-sportsman loves the wild 
animals. In their wild life they fascinate him; all his 
interest is aroused In watching them; his pulse is quick- 
ened; his feeling for nature becomes deeper, fuller, and 
more complete. I never knew a true hunter, be he the 
rough pioneer or the cultured man, who did not have an 
intense fondness for the wild animals, a strong interest in 
studying them and protecting them, and also a desire to 
alleviate and prevent their suffering; yet there still per- 
sists his paradoxical love of hunting and killing them. 

The Indian finds in the fascination of the hunt a 
gratification of those inherited instincts produced and 
implanted in him by centuries of the struggle for exist- 
ence. His ancestors had to hunt or starve, and in many 
places on this continent to-day the Indian must hunt or 
starve. He must seek food, and the excitement of the 
chase develops a fascination for it, intensified perhaps by 
inherited instinct. Part of this same instinct is our own 
heritage. It may be the mainspring which prompts us 
to set forth and suffer hardship. 

Primitive feeling for nature was saturated with the 
supernatural and easily took the form of a reverence for 
natural phenomena, which in turn led to the develop- 



ON THE SHEEP RANGES 47 

ment of mythological conceptions. It persists among 
most primitive men to-day, but Is lost to us — replaced by 
the aesthetic feeling slowly and gradually evolved from it. 
In civilized man the hunting instinct has become broad- 
ened and transformed. We have learned to love and con- 
template nature. We go back to the wilderness, and 
the more primitive it is, the more strongly we feel Its 
charm. But the wilderness must include the animals. 
Our active sympathies, developed by civilization, extend 
also to them. We feel for them along with their wilder- 
ness environment. We learn to know and love them. 
They become inseparable from the mysterious emotions 
aroused by mountains, valleys, woods, and waters. They 
also arouse, kindle, and set glowing the primitive instinct 
to hunt and kill. The pursuit leads us to nature which 
In turn leads us to the pursuit. We cannot deny that this 
must react upon our race. Endurance, strength, skill, 
boldness, Independence, manliness, are the qualities pro- 
duced. 

The time may come when most of us will undertake 
to work, endure, and suffer the hardships of the wilder- 
ness, prompted only by love of it for its own sake. But 
to many of us. In our present stage, hunting prevents the 
mere contemplative Indulgence in the beautiful from pro- 
ducing effemlnateness. 

We skinned the ram and went up a short distance to 
the carcass of the caribou. It was photographed sev- 
eral times, and then, after cutting off the head, Runglus 
and Gage started back over the crest to take It down to 
the horses and return to camp. It was 6.30 in the even- 



48 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

ing, but I could not resist remaining to look for more 
sheep and hoping perhaps to find the remainder of that 
band of rams. Following a sheep-trail along the crest, 
after a difficult and dangerous climb, I finally reached the 
top of a high limestone peak. This was the last high 
peak on the south range bordering the divide. Toward 
the west the mountain sloped downward to vast meadows 
bordering a creek running north-east. The slopes con- 
tinued in great expanses of hills and rolling meadows, cut 
here and there by deep caiions; most of the country was 
green; but all the exposed limestone glowed white in the 
setting sun. Later in the season this broad area of green 
pastures, canons, streams, and rivulets, must be a magnifi- 
cent range for caribou, as earlier it must be a feeding- 
ground for grizzly bears. This was demonstrated during 
a subsequent tramp over it by innumerable tracks and 
signs of both, and also by shed horns of caribou. Sheep- 
trails crossed it. Intersecting from all directions, always 
along the higher ridges and knolls. All trails had worn 
through the earth to the limestone, thus marking the 
country with irregular white lines. 

For a long time I watched through the field-glass, but 
nothing appeared. The sun went below the horizon, 
leaving a brilliantly colored sky glowing over the distant 
ranges toward the Tatonduk River. It was after ten 
and, not wishing to lose the beauty of the landscape under 
the twilight glow, I tramped hour after hour along the 
crest of the range continuing all the way to the basin 
south of camp. The ground-squirrels, marmots, conies, 
birds, and even the mosquitoes were hushed, and a 



ON THE SHEEP RANGES 49 

solemn stillness prevailed. A deep calm pervaded the 
basins, meadows, and wilderness below, causing a weird 
impression of the solitude. Not a sound of any kind 
was audible; not a creature visible. Never did I feel 
more alone. In this northern twilight there was just 
enough darkness to cause a feeling of awe at the dim 
and silent grandeur of the surroundings. I slowly walked 
on all night, from mountain to mountain, and descended 
to the gorge of the stream in the south basin, proceeded 
through it with difficulty, and went down the creek tow- 
ard camp. At three in the morning a heavy frost spread 
over the country, and a little later, above and below, all 
glittered and sparkled like diamonds in the rising sun. 

July 22. — Arriving in camp at 5.30 a. m. I made a fire, 
had some tea, a bite to eat, and then slept until two in 
the afternoon. As rain threatened, the rest of the day 
was passed in camp. Rungius had the body of the cow 
caribou suspended by ropes and propped by stakes, so 
that he could change it to various attitudes and sketch it, 
and Osgood prepared the small mammals that he had 
taken in his traps. Wolverines were common In the vi- 
cinity, but only one was seen by Osgood. Minks were 
abundant along the creek near camp. Arctic weasels 
were there, though none were caught in the traps, and a 
few martens undoubtedly existed in the timber along 
the creek. The Dawson red-backed mouse and the In- 
terior vole were the only two species of mice observed 
near timber-line. 

The day before Osgood had climbed a mountain 
rising from the basin south of camp, and on it had found 



50 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

several ewes and lambs. But where was the remainder 
of that band of rams, or others ? That question was 
disturbing me; therefore, I determined to go to the lower 
end of the divide for a day or two and hunt them alone. 



CHAPTER III 

SEARCHING FOR RAMS— 1904 

July 23. — The horses had disappeared, and Spahr and 
Gage consumed a long time looking for them, and finally 
found them not far away, standing perfectly still on a 
side hill. On Mike we put my blanket, a narrow piece 
of mosquito netting, the frying-pan, teapot, and a few 
provisions. Spahr rode Shorty and Gage and I walked to 
the divide. Arriving on top, four sheep were seen just 
below the crest of the spur above the place where the 
bear had been killed. They were two miles off, and 
appeared like white specks on the mountain; but even at 
that distance they had seen us and were nervous, bunch- 
ing immediately and moving about with uncertainty. 
The glasses showed that they were rams and I quickly 
planned a stalk. 

Going down into the ravine until out of their sight, I 
climbed to the foot of the cliffs, from where I could 
ascend the mountain on the west side near the peak and 
come out above them. In the broken rocks at the foot 
of the cliffs were numerous marmots which kept continu- 
ally whistling, and I was fearful that they might alarm 
the rams. The surface for two hundred yards, reaching 
to a point not far from the top, consisted of small, loose, 
broken rock, over which I had to proceed with the great- 
si 



52 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

est caution, as the rams were very near on the other side 
of the crest. It was a very steep slope and unless I care- 
fully chose my footing, the rock would slide and fall, 
making much noise. In such places moccasins are 
superior to all other footgear. I could carefully feel the 
surface with my big toe, and at the right spot wedge 
the toes in the uneven spaces in a manner not possible 
with stiff soles. Besides, the moccasins were noiseless 
on hard rock. The rock slide was crossed successfully 
to a grassy space up which I went more rapidly to the 
peak, paying no attention to the wind, which was blow- 
ing directly from me to the rams. Going slightly to the 
right and descending a little, I looked below, but did not 
see them. As I was cautiously retreating to look over the 
other side, the horns of the rams were suddenly seen on 
the sky-line just below the peak and not fifty feet away. 

At the same moment the sheep ran and I fired at one, 
which came in sight for an instant, but evidently shot 
over it. Running forward, I saw them rushing across 
the saddle, a ram of good size behind three smaller ones. 
Quickly seating myself and aiming at the larger ram as 
he was running, now two hundred yards away, I fired and 
he suddenly left the others, continued a few yards down 
the slope and dropped dead. The others had now 
crossed the saddle, ascended fifty yards more, and stood 
looking back for a few moments before they again ran 
and disappeared along the broken slopes. All this was 
within six hundred yards of the spot where I had killed 
the bear. The ram lay a hundred yards below, stretched 
out at the head of a snow-bank, down which I pulled 




"We loaded the ram on Mike," July 2^ 




Photograph by Carl Rungius. 

I. Point where ram was killed, July ig. 2. Point where ram was killed, July 2^ 
3. Point where bear was killed, July 16. 



SEARCHING FOR RAMS 53 

him to the bare ground and drew out the entrails, while 
Gage and Spahr, who had witnessed the whole stalk, 
were coming up with the horses. We loaded the ram on 
Mike, and Spahr immediately started with him for camp. 
I was delighted to send a whole ram to Rungius, who 
could now study and sketch it in the flesh. He was a 
fine ram with seven rings; his horns were of the spread- 
ing type, twenty-five inches from tip to tip. 

From this point Gage and I went to timber-line at the 
lower end of the divide and made camp, after which he 
returned to the main camp leaving me alone. A piece of 
mutton was soon cooked and with crackers and tea, made 
my supper. Two willow sticks were bent in the form 
of a bow and placed parallel, ten inches apart with the 
ends thrust in the ground, so that a small piece of mos- 
quito netting could be hung on them to cover my head 
while sleeping, for the mosquitoes were particularly 
numerous here, perhaps worse than at any other point 
near the divide. 

But it was a beautiful spot, in an undisturbed wilder- 
ness. The sun had gone down and the sky was aglow. 
The landscape in front was seen between the spruces. 
How many times in after years I have felt the beauty 
of beholding mountains and far distant vistas through 
spruces whose graceful tops, like sharp pointed spires, 
lined the near horizon! Down through the deep descend- 
ing valley, clothed with willows and evergreens, bordered 
on both sides by high mountains, I could see the broad 
meadow-lands and the dim mountain ranges beyond. 

At last, rolling under the blanket and arranging my 



54 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

head under the netting, I was quickly hummed to sleep 
by the disappointed mosquitoes. But the protection did 
not last long and all night I kept rearranging the netting 
unsuccessfully. 

July 24. — In the morning it was raining and a late 
start was made. To the west of my camp the range on 
its south side was smooth and grassy, covered here and 
there like all the other slopes, with moss and lichens. Its 
north side, not visible from the divide, was rough and 
rocky. The ascent was rather long; the wind was blow- 
ing strong, and it soon became very cold. Old bear 
diggings were common and ptarmigan were plentiful all 
along the slopes. Perched near some cliffs was a rough- 
legged hawk, which kept constantly crying, while across 
the divide, on the opposite range, were two golden eagles, 
soaring about the crests and appearing very dark against 
the sky. When well up, I suddenly saw, a hundred 
yards ahead, two ewes and two lambs looking at me with 
apparent curiosity. They ran forward a few jumps, 
stopped, and looked again. As I kept on they soon 
began to run, finally disappearing over the* top. The 
wind was blowing directly from me to them. 

Reaching the crest and looking over, I saw a startling 
sight. Cliffs and precipices fell perpendicularly to a small 
circular basin, surrounded on all sides by walls of rock 
fifteen hundred feet or more in height. Only one or two 
routes of descent were possible and these were very 
dangerous. 

The ewes and lambs that had fled over the mountain 
top now reappeared five hundred yards away on the sky- 



SEARCHING FOR RAMS 55 

line. My glasses revealed twelve peacefully feeding on 
the green pasture at the bottom of the basin. With the 
unaided eye, it was a long time before I could make them 
out and then only as tiny dots. At times, in the moun- 
tains of that locality, the white sheep are most difficult to 
see, since their stained coats blend so well with the color 
of their environment. Many times, even when trying to 
look most carefully, I was surprised at not seeing them, 
when they were near and in plain sight. These ewes 
soon began to run as if startled, and through the glasses 
I saw a small ram, followed by another band, of thirteen 
ewes and lambs, chasing them two hundred yards behind. 
From what I learned later of the habits of sheep, they 
were no doubt merely running across the level in sport 
after feeding, and had started to go higher up to rest. 
Thinking the horns of the ram were larger than they 
proved to be on closer inspection, I circled around the 
edge of the cliffs to a point near which I thought they 
would ascend, and, sitting on the edge of a precipice, 
waited. Looking across the basin, high up near the 
top of a lofty mountain, I saw nine more ewes and lambs 
feeding on almost perpendicular cliffs. Clinging with 
their feet, they jumped about with indifference to their 
hazardous location, to get the morsels of green weeds 
and herbs growing among the rocks. The ewes below 
were slowly feeding upward; now all banded closely to- 
gether and ascended directly toward me. 

It was a fascinating sight to watch the sheep. Those 
on the cliffs beyond appeared like small white spots, now 
and then almost sparkling in the sun. At times it was 



56 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

difficult to credit the vision and realize that even sheep 
could so easily move about on the «ides of apparent 
precipices. Those below kept moving along and were 
gradually approaching the top. Nearby conies were bleat- 
ing, marmots were whistling, and twice a golden eagle 
soared gracefully across the basin. The sheep con- 
tinued to approach upward, quite unsuspicious of my 
presence, while the lambs kept frisking about, now leaping 
on rocks, now running together and butting, now chasing 
each other and bleating. The ewes seemed indifferent 
to their gambols, but occasionally one would run about 
and sport with them. In such cases it was always one 
of the younger mothers. One of the ewes was particu- 
larly dark, even after making allowance for her stained 
pelage. 

Nearer they came, directly toward me, while the small 
band still continued plainly in sight on the cliffs opposite. 
The ram was now in the lead and at length stood one 
hundred and fifty feet directly below me as the ewes 
came up around him. Pointing my rifle down over the 
cliff, the barrel was almost perpendicular when I fired 
at the centre of his shoulders. He dropped to a lying- 
down position, panting and apparently about to roll over. 
The ewes, not in the least alarmed at the report, looked 
up, but none saw me, and some even continued feeding. 
Thinking the ram was dying, I stood up, when seeing 
me at once, they all ran across the steep side of the basin, 
where it did not seem possible for even a sheep to find 
a footing. The lambs easily followed, and in some way 
all climbed over the crest. I was greatly surprised to 



SEARCHING FOR RAMS 57 

see the ram, which saw me as soon as the ewes began to 
run, jump up and run downward in a diagonal direction. 
Four shots were fired without hitting him, but when dis- 
tant about eight hundred yards he stopped and lay down 
under a large rock. I could see that he was bleeding 
badly, and thinking that he would soon become stiff, 
waited quietly, watching the remainder of the band^ 
which had again reappeared on the crest. They de- 
scended a few feet below the summit and all lay down, 
peacefully resting as if nothing had happened. The other 
band of sheep on the high cliffs opposite had passed over 
the crest. Once or twice the ram rose, staggered, and 
dropped again, therefore I felt sure that he would die, 
and continued waiting for a couple of hours and then 
stood up to try a descent. The wounded ram immedi- 
ately rose and slowly, with difficulty, walked downward 
to the bottom of the basin. Not to alarm him more than 
necessary, I seated myself and watched him through the 
glasses. He often paused and stopped as if to lie down 
again, but kept on. He seemed to limber up as he went 
along a little faster, often making a jump, and sometimes 
almost running. 

A mile away he crossed the basin and began to walk 
up the steep slope opposite, then going without difficulty. 
Higher and higher he went, still farther away, until he 
lay down under a cliff. The only chance of getting him 
was to leave him undisturbed so that he might die in the 
same spot. My bullet must have struck him on the side, 
too far back to make a quickly fatal wound. Then and 
there I made up my mind to keep shooting at a wounded 



58 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

animal in the future until assured that it was vitally hit, 
rather than to take chances, as in this case. A single 
ewe was lying down on the rocks above the ram. At 9.30 
the large band was returning toward the bottom of the 
basin to feed. They reached it in peace before I started 
back to camp. This was the remainder of the band 
that Osgood and Rungius had disturbed and driven 
back into the rougher parts of the mountains. 

Later I sat by the fire, smoking my pipe, enjoying the 
solitude, with the same gorgeous sunset sky before me. 
I again passed the night, sleeping between intervals of 
fighting the mosquitoes, which were active all night in 
the timber on that side of the divide. 

July 25. — The sun was shining brightly when I rose 
and climbed the south range. After looking at the un- 
touched carcass of the caribou, I proceeded east along 
the crest in the hope of finding the rams near the point 
where they had first been seen. To the south, on the 
other side of a narrow basin, was a high ridge on the 
crest of which stood a large bull caribou, making a huge 
black bulk against the sky. He was motionless in the 
centre of the snow-bank, with his head held downward — • 
the most common attitude of bull caribou when standing 
at rest. Having determined not to shoot another cari- 
bou while in the velvet, I watched him at times through 
the glasses, as he stood for two hours without changing 
his attitude. Later I proceeded, noticing the beds of 
sheep — small circular hollows which they had pawed 
out in the broken rock of the slope — and saw that noth- 
ing had yet touched the bear's carcass, which was in 



SEARCHING FOR RAMS 59 

sight below. About the middle of the afternoon Osgood 
came along on the crest and I pointed out the caribou, 
which had then wandered about fifty feet from the snow- 
bank. As he started in that direction, it returned and 
lay down on the snow. Osgood had seen seven ewes 
and lambs on a high spur running south from the range, 
and was approaching to see if any rams were near. 

I walked on observing the ewes, which were now feed- 
ing on the top of the spur, and while proceeding could 
soon look down on the basin from which Osgood had 
ascended. Just beyond the range that I was following 
was a chain of peaks, the second of which was, to the 
sight, the highest visible anywhere in the whole region. 
I determined to climb it. It was rough and steep, and 
the last hundred yards were difficult to surmount, but 
finally I reached the top. From this peak I could look 
down on both sides of the spur and into two pretty crystal 
lakes lying in a narrow space between it and the next 
range, which shot up into cliffs, culminating in the high 
jagged crest of a mountain chain running north and 
south. 

Streams of water could be heard leaping down from 
the surrounding snow to form the lakes. It was per- 
fectly clear, and I sat down to enjoy the extended moun- 
tain panorama. After taking several photographs of the 
landscape, I left my riicksack and the kodak where I had 
been sitting, and descended a short distance along the 
rim to look over into a canon beyond. When I had gone 
a few hundred feet I heard the sound of falling rocks 
not fifty feet in front, and suddenly seven ewes and lambs 



6o THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

jumped up on the crest from the chff below. They stood 
for a few moments in alert attitudes, looking at me with 
curiosity. Oh, for that kodak, which for the first time 
was not at hand! As I started back for it the sheep 
moved around the peak and disappeared. Then on the 
high range beyond, some small moving objects were sil- 
houetted against the sky-line, and my field-glasses proved 
them to be ewes and lambs. Moving the glasses, to 
keep the crest in the field, I could see on every peak and 
in many places between them small bands of ewes and 
lambs; some feeding, some lying down, and others trav- 
elling along; but not a single ram. 

Then I began the descent to the lakes. The slope 
was exceedingly steep, particularly on the talus; so, sus- 
pending my rifle on my back, I zigzagged down, finding 
great difficulty the last few hundred feet, where the way 
led among tumbled and confused boulders. There was 
ice along the shores of the lakes, which were two or 
three acres in extent, perfectly clear, and fairly deep. As 
usual, old caribou tracks were everywhere, and the songs 
of water ousels were heard as I followed the stream to 
camp, reached finally at ten in the evening. 

This day Rungius had been up the north branch of 
Coal Creek, below our camp, and had climbed the other 
side of the range where I had seen the ewes feeding on 
the cliffs the day before. He reported having seen the 
same number of ewes — probably the same band. 

July 26. — At 2.30 the next morning Osgood returned 
with the skin of the caribou, having left the head to bring 
later. He had found it feeding only a few feet from 



SEARCHING FOR RAMS 6i 

the snow-bank and nearby had seen some caribou cows 
and calves. Rungius continued sketching the ram that 
I had killed. By a system of ropes, suspended from a 
cross-pole, it had been held in a natural position and had 
been stuffed with grass to give a normal size to the belly. 
After several pencil drawings Rungius made a color 
sketch to record the stained color of the pelage. 

Soon after noon, I started for the mountain to look for 
the ram which had been wounded two days before. 
Reaching the edge of the basin, where I could plainly see 
the country, no sign of him was visible about the slope 
where he had been last seen; nor, after reaching the 
point where he had lain down, could I find any trace of 
him. I then turned back toward camp, descending to the 
divide down the bed of a stream which flows through a 
deep gorge. Just before entering the cafion I saw a 
ewe and lamb standing not far above, looking at me. 
The ewe was in an alert attitude, with one foreleg raised 
and curved. At short intervals she would strike her 
horns to the ground or jump and stamp with her feet and 
shake her head, tormented by the mosquitoes. Many 
times I saw sheep act in this way, a sure sign that mos- 
quitoes worried them, particularly about the lips, eyes, 
and ears. The canon proved to be so precipitous that 
it became a difficult and dangerous task to descend it. 
It was necessary to cross and recross the dashing stream, 
walk down slippery snow-banks, work down bluffs, and 
often make a detour around the heads of tributary gorges. 
It is not wise to attempt a descent through unknown 
gorges, and I determined not to try it again. From one 



62 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

point several ewes and lambs were seen near the peak of 
the mountain on my left. They had evidently been feed- 
ing below and were working upward to rest for the 
night. 

July 27. — The next day was spent In camp. It was 
the hottest yet experienced and decidedly uncomfortable. 
With the exceptions noted, the weather had been clear; 
the days, except high up the mountains, warm, often 
hot; and the nights cold, the temperature usually falling 
below freezing point. Numerous jays were now about, 
and it was amusing to watch them carrying off every 
piece of meat that they could snatch. I prepared the 
head of the ram which Rungius had been sketching, and 
skinned my caribou's feet. Osgood had very kindly pre- 
pared the caribou head during my absence. 

At 6.30 in the evening Rungius and I filled our ruck- 
sacks with provisions, and, taking the mosquito tent, 
started for my camp at the lower end of the divide. As 
we were ascending the pastures of the divide, Rungius 
looked back and saw a fairly large ram, high up the 
mountain, running down the slope, followed by a smaller 
one. He immediately started back to gain the foot of 
the slope, but the sheep passed out of sight, running as if 
frightened. He began to climb directly toward the point 
where they disappeared. Then I started down the creek, 
to intercept them if they should cross to the other range, 
but it was too late, for I saw them climbing the slope on 
the opposite side, and watched them for some time until 
they began to feed near the top and soon passed out of 
sight over the crest. 







.-mm.^ 







SEARCHING FOR RAMS 63 

At the same time four ewes and lambs were seen up 
near Rungius, who also saw but did not stalk them. 
Later we learned that shortly before this hour Osgood had 
seen three rams farther along the same range, and wound- 
ing the largest he had failed to get it. The two that 
Rungius and I had seen were evidently the others which 
were running in fright when we first saw them. Rungius 
finally joined me and we proceeded over the divide. 
Twilight was deepening, and the sky to the west was 
glowing in colors above the distant peaks, when I saw, 
silhouetted against the sky-line of the crest directly oppo- 
site my old camp, several sheep, probably ewes. They 
soon lay down and were still visible on the sky-line as the 
shadows deepened and the sky became crimson. By 
practice the eye becomes trained to recognize animals in 
contrast to similar inanimate objects, even when blending 
in color and at a distance, and often when not moving. 
My vision was constantly improving in this respect, and 
I was gradually gaining confidence in my ability to 
quickly distinguish sheep, inconspicuous as they were in 
that country. As we approached camp the usual swarm 
of mosquitoes welcomed us. We soon put up the tent, 
made a fire, cooked, ate, and went under the blankets. 
At last, in that spot, I slept, defying the mosquitoes. 

July 28. — It was raining when we rose, and after break- 
fast we waited for clear weather. During my absence 
the ground-squirrels had gnawed through the waterproof 
canvas to investigate the few provisions that had been 
left. It cleared and we started down river, then ascended 
a steep slope well to the west along the range, for the 



64 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

purpose of examining the lower ranges south of the 
divide. I particularly wanted to climb the farther peaks 
above the rolling country. Bear diggings were numerous 
everywhere, In the basins and on the slopes. We climbed 
along the broken rock on the west side of the high lime- 
stone mountain (which I had ascended after leaving 
Runglus and Gage several days before), and circled 
around It to the crest on the other side where the chain 
continues to the south, and there seated ourselves to 
look over the country. 

While scanning a partly snow-covered range of dark, 
Iron-stained rock, almost black In appearance, there 
came Into the field of my glasses a band of sixteen bull 
caribou, their manes glistening white In contrast to the 
black rock of the slope above the snow on which they were 
standing. Their bodies appeared black In strong relief, 
although nearly three miles away, and their wide, branch- 
ing antlers were clearly visible, like small dead tree tops. 
All stood motionless with heads hanging down, like the 
single bull I had seen near there a few days before. 
Here was an opportunity for Runglus to study them in 
life, and he quickly started. As he passed out of sight 
below, I watched the caribou. Now and then a few 
would move off the snow to feed, but they quickly came 
back, and soon two or three were lying down on It. 

Then I went on along the crest of the range and 
after climbing a peak noticed a dead animal on the snow 
In the bottom of a ravine and soon found It to be a dead 
caribou bull. It was the one I had shot at and thought I 
had missed. It had been shot through the stomach and 



SEARCHING FOR RAMS 65 

had lain down on the snow and died. It was fully as large 
as the one I had killed, but a little lighter in color, and 
the horns, though as long in beam, had but few points. 
All the satisfaction I had felt in permitting it to escape 
without firing at It again now disappeared in a feeling 
of chagrin. The carcass was badly decomposed, but 
only ground-squirrels had been feeding on it. 

I went on along the uneven crest to the south end 
of the range, following sheep-trails, among the bleating 
conies and whistling marmots. From the south moun- 
tains I crossed back to camp through the rolling country. 
A sheep was seen against the sky-line of the mountain 
three miles to the west and another soon joined it, but 
at that distance it was impossible to make out the sex, 
though the absence of lambs might indicate rams. It 
had showered and hailed during the day and at times 
was cold on the mountain. During the tramp along the 
crest I noticed two ravens feeding on the carcass of the 
first ram I had killed, but they were driven away at inter- 
vals by a golden eagle, who claimed a share of the feast. 
Not finding Rungius, and thinking he had returned to 
the main camp, I prepared supper, and after smoking 
my pipe rolled into the blanket at midnight. As I went 
to sleep the glow of the twilight in the west was still 
beautiful, while the pastures and mountains behind were 
covered with dark clouds. 

July 29. — Some time later I was aroused by a noise 
outside and seized my rifle, thinking it was a bear after 
the provisions stored near by under a tree. It was Run- 
gius returning with a caribou head and skin. When 



66 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

nearlng the caribou, he found that they had moved to a 
snow-bank higher up the slope, and not distinguishing 
the leader of the band he killed two of the smaller bulls. 
After he had fired, the leader, followed by the whole 
band, came trotting up to him in curiosity. Just beyond 
the bulls he had seen a band of five cows and calves. 

Soon after Rungius came in it began to rain very 
hard and continued until after mid-day, when he started 
back for the main camp. I intended to remain a few more 
days to search for rams, and asked him to have one of 
the men bring me more provisions. Since the mountains 
and ridges became enveloped in a heavy mist, it was 
necessary to remain about camp. Alaska jays were now 
numerous, and two Northern shrikes were there, stealing 
any morsel that they could find. Although the shrikes 
would snatch everything and fly off, they would only 
eat meat. They were extremely quarrelsome and always 
drove off the jays until they could help themselves. 
Ground-squirrels had become bold and would come to 
the frying-pan as I held it, to eat the bacon grease. All 
these provided interesting company until evening, when 
Spahr appeared with two horses, bringing a supply of pro- 
visions. I sent him back with Runglus's caribou skin. 
It rained all night. 

July 30. — After breakfast, on the range to the south, 
I saw a ewe and two lambs feeding low. The lambs 
were sporting about. Through the glasses the dark 
stripes on the ewe's legs and the gray on the back were 
distinctly visible. As the mountains were covered with 
mist, I waited and watched the sheep feeding until they 



SEARCHING FOR RAMS 67 

moved upward and disappeared over the crest. Looking 
back on the spur where I had killed my last ram, I saw 
a smaller ram walking across the slope. It reached the 
edge of the cliff, leaped down to a jutting rock below, and 
lay down. It was still resting at noon when I began to 
climb the ridge. From the top seven ewes and lambs 
could be seen back across the valley and laying down 
on the crest of the mountain I had climbed a few days 
before. Two hours later they were still resting in the 
same place. The sun was brightly shining as I con- 
tinued the long tramp along the ridges, fascinated by 
the interest of looking down in the basins between the 
numerous spurs, always hoping to see a bear feeding, or 
perhaps rams resting. I kept carefully examining the 
country ahead until the last mountain was climbed, but 
not an animal was anywhere in sight. Here for the 
first time I saw the white-tailed ptarmigan, very tame, 
high up among the rocks. 

I could look down on the edge of the vast meadows, 
extending many miles north and south, brlsthng here 
and there with black spruces, and see well-defined moose 
and caribou trails, crossing through the long grass. The 
meadows were about three miles wide and through the 
middle flowed a large stream coming from a mountain 
to the south-west, and which was lost to view where it 
flowed through the mountain ranges fifteen miles to the 
north-east. On the other side of the meadows, parallel 
with them, were high mountain chains, similar in ap- 
pearance to those of the divide. The river is a branch of 
the Tatonduk or Sheep Creek. Sheep trails extended In 



68 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

all directions from the ridge-tops near me, except toward 
the meadows. It is probably a feeding-place in spring 
or late fall. 

It had showered at intervals during the day and when 
I reached camp it was raining hard. While I was cook- 
ing supper, my eyes were attracted by an unfamiliar 
object appearing like a small stump in the centre of a 
little knoll about a hundred and fifty yards off across the 
brook. Watching it carefully I saw a movement and 
knew that it was a wolf, in an attitude almost perfect for 
self-protection. Its hind quarters were turned directly 
toward me. Its head, pointing in my direction, was held 
close to the body in a straight line in such manner that 
the only parts of the body visible, without close scru- 
tiny, were the narrow hind quarters, the color of which 
blended perfectly with the grass. My rifle was against 
a tree. Quickly creeping to it I aimed through the dusk 
and fired. The wolf jumped and ran zigzagging down 
stream, but did not present another shot and was soon 
lost to sight in the timber. As it ran one hind leg was 
swinging, evidently broken by the bullet. It was too dark 
to follow then, but I determined to try for it in the morning. 

July 31. — The sunset that night and the tinting of the 
clouds were particularly beautiful, as the faint light 
glowed through the spruces while heavy clouds hung on 
the mountain sides, and to the east all was dark. Few 
mosquitoes were about, the rains of the last few days 
together with the colder nights having probably de- 
stroyed them. The rain kept pouring down, beating 
through the thin mosquito tent all night, and continued 



SEARCHING FOR RAMS 69 

until afternoon the next day. When it slackened it was 
necessary to search for a spot to safely cross the brook, 
now swollen and dashing by in heavy volume. Careful 
search was made for the wolf, but all signs had been 
obliterated by the rain, which, later in the afternoon, 
increased so much that hunting for that day was given up. 

While I was sheltered by the tent, a ground-squirrel 
greatly amused me. It began to approach, stopping, after 
each slight advance, to rise on its hind legs and look at 
me, until it came to the tent and cautiously pried about, 
eating grease in the frying-pan and picking up stray bits 
of meat. The shrikes also were about, flying from tree 
to tree, fighting over pieces of meat. Then the jays came 
for their share, and even a red squirrel was attracted to 
the feast. 

At five o'clock in the afternoon it stopped raining and 
nine ewes and lambs were seen feeding on the opposite 
mountain, evidently a part of those which had been 
observed across the basin, now coming back to their 
original pastures. Then a ewe and two lambs were seen 
feeding on the conical mountain near where Rungius had 
killed the cow caribou. The lambs, on reaching a long 
bank of snow, began a game of butting, backing apart 
and rushing together again and again. Soon all dis- 
appeared over the top. It was then eight o'clock and 
growing colder. 

August I. — The first day of August was bright, clear, 
and windy, with scattered clouds hovering here and there 
over the mountains. I decided to again climb the ridge 
behind our main camp, and walk east along the crest. 



70 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

thus repeating my trip of a few days before, in the hope 
that some of the rams had returned. During the ascent 
the field-glasses revealed a good-sized ram, with several 
ewes and lambs just under the peak of the conical moun- 
tains. After feeding awhile they lay down close to the 
peak, and I started to walk along the crest, with the 
intention of stalking them when they began to feed later 
in the afternoon. 

When I reached the top of the spur and looked beyond, 
Rungius was seen coming on a stalk directly over the 
peak, well within range, but not in sight of the ram. 
The ewes below, apparently having seen him, had risen 
and were quite uneasy; they suddenly jumped and ran 
around the peak before he could get a shot. Osgood 
then appeared, standing farther along the crest, and after 
Rungius motioned to him, both soon disappeared over 
the top. I kept on to the top of the mountain, noticed 
that the caribou carcass had not been disturbed and also 
that the carcass of the first ram I had killed was still 
untouched except by ravens and eagles. 

Later I saw Rungius approaching along the crest 
and, hailing him, we soon met. He told me that soon 
after I had seen him, he and Osgood had observed five 
rams lying under a cliff, but the rams had seen them 
before they could shoot, and were running when they 
fired at a distance of four hundred yards, both emptying 
their magazines without result. Osgood had gone after 
them, and Rungius and I started back to the main camp, 
but were overtaken by a very heavy rainstorm and thor- 
oughly soaked. 



SEARCHING FOR RAMS 71 

On the way we looked over some cliffs and could 
see lying on the talus below seven ewes and lambs, 
which we left undisturbed. Rungius soon afterward sep- 
arated from me to kill a ewe from a small band which 
he had seen in the morning nearer camp, in order to 
replenish our stock of meat. I kept on, descending to 
the south basin, where a marmot was sitting up like a 
woodchuck near its burrow. There were many marmot 
burrows in the bottom of this basin among coarse, broken 
rocks. 

I reached camp at 9 p. m. and Rungius came in soon 
after, having failed to find the ewes. Later, Osgood 
returned, bringing the head and scalp of a three-year- 
old ram. He had persistently followed them all day and 
finally made a successful stalk. He had shot as one 
was running, and thought that he had only wounded It 
as it disappeared in a hollow; and when one appeared 
on the other side he killed it. The next day, when he 
returned with Gage for the meat, he found the other 
ram dead in the hollow, a three-year-old, the one that 
he had fired at first. His persistent stalk on diflficult 
ground deserves much credit. Apparently those rams 
were from the band which I had first seen. 

For several days I had tramped many miles and had 
climbed high mountains in search of rams, and was some- 
what doubtful of finding other big rams before we must 
depart; hence, the next day, I decided to hunt the ranges 
east of Coal Creek, below the forks. 



CHAPTER IV 

THE FINAL STALK— 1904 

August 2. — We rose late, to find the sun brightly 
shining. Rungius soon started to look at his caribou 
carcass; Osgood and Gage went to get the meat of Os- 
good's ram. I stood near the fire for a few moments 
after they had left, and was gazing at the high mountains 
three miles or more distant, east of the north branch of 
Coal Creek, where I intended to hunt, when I saw up 
near the top what appeared to be sheep — whitish spots 
against the dark background of the slope. My glasses 
showed six sheep, not clearly visible, but looking like 
rams. 

It was a little after mid-day, and in five minutes I had 
started down the creek flushing ptarmigan and disturbing 
ground-squirrels on the way, while red spruce squirrels 
scampered and frisked about. After passing rapidly 
along the well-beaten moose trail until near the forks, I 
again looked through the glasses. Yes, they were rams, 
nine in all, apparently, with fair horns, and the horns of 
one, which was feeding to the right a short distance from 
the others, seemed to be particularly large. 

They were on the west face of a high, rugged mountain, 

about a mile broad, with very steep, green slopes extending 

72 




.^^^^r . i^'tf %J 






^> 






i^^l?"^^^^^*^ 




t/5 Uj 



THE FINAL STALK 73 

from the creek directly up to near the crest, ending against 
shagged precipices, pinnacled above by high peaks of 
limestone and iron-stained rock which, under the sunlight, 
displayed a wonderful harmony of colors — red, black, 
and white. The slope was furrowed by three ravines, 
and through the bottom of each fell brooks, dashing and 
leaping over the rocks of the sharp decline. From a dis- 
tance these ravines looked like deep concave depres- 
sions, giving a wavy appearance to the broad mountain 
face. 

Three of the rams, including the one with big horns, 
were feeding in the middle ravine; the other six were 
standing on the edge of the next one, which was so pre- 
cipitous that it was more like a deep caiion on the moun- 
tain side. In studying an approach, it appeared to be 
quite possible to climb out of sight in the ravine to the 
right, but should the rams in the meanwhile feed in that 
direction, they would surely see me. Though it required 
more time, I decided to pass clear around the mountain, 
and by winding up the south-east side come in sight above 
them, thus avoiding any possibility of their seeing me 
unless they should go back over the crest, which for the 
next few hours was unlikely. 

I waded the creek, circled, and began the ascent 
through the timber, where were rabbits and spruce grouse, 
not observed nearer to the divide. Coming out on the 
south side and circling upward, I not only found it very 
steep, but it was extremely difficult to force my way 
through the dense growth of dwarf birch which covered 
the lower slopes of the south exposure. But gradually 



74 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

winding upward I reached a point high above the sheep, 
where the ground was so rough and steep that It was 
difficuh to work among the crags and rocks to the part 
of the crest that I had marked from below as directly 
above the sheep. The slope now became so dangerous 
that It was necessary to sling my rifle on my back, so 
that I could use both hands. At length, I stood at the 
marked point, just below the crest, and paused awhile 
to rest and recover my breath after the exertion of the 
climb. 

After a few moments I slowly crawled forward and 
looked over. A hundred and fifty yards below me was 
the large ram, lying down near the edge of the second 
ravine, and a little to the left below it the heads of two 
smaller ones were just visible. The wind was fresh and 
fairly strong, blowing directly from me to them. As 
no other sheep were in sight I concluded that the rest 
were below In the ravine. The ram was peacefully look- 
ing down on that wondrous landscape, without suspicion 
of danger from above. Sitting with elbows squarely on 
my knees, I fired at the centre of its body. I heard the 
bullet strike him before he rose with a jump and stepped 
forward, quickly passing out of sight over the edge of the 
ravine. The two smaller rams sprang to a standing posi- 
tion, and looked sideways and down, apparently not much 
alarmed. None of the others appeared while I remained 
stretched at full length, motionless, for ten minutes. The 
big ram then suddenly staggered In sight again on the 
edge of the ravine and I aimed, fired, and the bullet 
struck him In such a way that I was confident he had 



THE FINAL STALK 75 

been killed as he dropped back Into the canon. The 
two small rams slowly followed him. 

Then as quickly and as noiselessly as possible, I 
walked two hundred yards to the right, just below and 
parallel with the crest, to a point where I could look 
down in the canon. Seventy-five yards away on the 
opposite side and a little below were eight rams closely 
bunched, all nervously looking down. They had heard 
the noise of the old ram falling and were looking in that 
direction. They had not determined the direction of the 
danger. I quickly selected the one with the largest 
horns and off-hand shot him through the heart. The 
rest jumped and ran a hundred yards downward, and 
rushed up the broken surface to the edge of the caiion 
directly below me, where all stopped and looked about 
in excitement, not yet having seen me. 

Selecting the one with the next largest horns I sent 
a bullet through his heart, and he dropped in his tracks. 
The others scattered, ran about a little, and stood again, 
still not having seen me. Selecting the grayest I shot 
him through the middle of the body. He ran down the 
cafion slope near the second dead ram, and stood a 
moment until another shot killed him. The rest, three 
of which had good horns, bunched, ran a few yards, and 
again stood and looked up, for the first time seeing me. 
In alert attitudes they gazed at me for several seconds 
until I moved, then all dashed across the slope and dis- 
appeared through the ravine, again coming in sight for 
a moment before they rushed around to the other side 
of the mountain. I went quickly down to the third 



76 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

ram on the edge of the canon and sat down to smoke my 
pipe. 

After the excitement of the hunt the vast panorama 
of mountains dbout me never seemed so beautiful. Di- 
rectly below were the bare, steep slopes extending to the 
timber which bordered the creek. Beyond, lay the valley 
of the west fork, fringed green by the spruces, while 
the waters of the creek were shining and glistening in 
the rays of the setting sun, which tinted with gold the 
heavy clouds on the horizon. The lofty mountain be- 
hind camp stood out boldly, its high-turreted rocks and 
rough peaks forming fantastic shapes against the sky- 
line, and at its base our camp fire burned brightly. 
Behind, stretching far away, were the bewildering masses 
of the main Ogilvie ranges, the varied rocks blending 
their colors and fading like a wavy ocean merging into 
the soft, dull blue of the sky beyond. A large ram lay 
at my feet; below in the canon was another; above on 
opposite sides of the leaping stream two more — my final 
success. Still with me is the vivid memory of those wild 
sheep rushing across the rocky slope in that wonderful 
landscape. 

After photographing the dead ram near me I began 
to take off the skin of his head and neck. The clouds 
gathered fast and it soon began to rain. After cutting 
off the head I carried it with the skin down into the 
canon and then went up to the third ram killed, which 
was very gray, and was selected to represent the " Fannin" 
type for the collection of the Biological Survey. After 
photographing him I gralloched him and left him for 




'He dropped in his tracks," August 2. ''Selectingthegrayest, I shot him through 

THE MIDDLE OF THE BODY," AuGUST 2, 




"I QUICKLY SELECTED THE OXE WITH THE 
LARGEST HORNS AND OFFHAND SHOT HIM 
THROUGH THE HEART,' AuGUST 2. 



"A FINE OLD VETERAN OF THE CRAGS ANO 

PEAKS," August 2. 



THE FINAL STALK 77 

Osgood to preserve. Then crossing the stream to the 
second ram killed, which had fallen on an exceedingly 
steep slope, I photographed him also and removed his 
skin and head. Both were carried to the ram below, the 
first one killed. Up to this time I had not been near 
him and the climax of the day came as I saw lying before 
me an enormous ram of grayish color, grizzled with age, 
his large, perfect horns sweeping upward in spirals ex- 
tending well above the eyes, a finer trophy than I had 
ever anticipated, an old veteran of the crags and peaks. 
It was raining heavily, the mountain crests were covered 
with clouds, and a dense fog was settling all around me. 
I tried several exposures for photographs, and measured 
the ram whose length was fifty-nine inches. In the rain 
and cold I finished skinning him at 10.30 p. M. The 
head was cut off and left in the skin. 

Thoroughly soaked, I rested for awhile and ate a 
couple of crackers. Far below in the distance the camp- 
fires could be seen glimmering through the fog, which 
soon became so dense that the darkness increased. The 
nights were now perceptibly darker, so much so that in 
this heavy fog I could not clearly see the ground. Tying 
the larger head and skin in my riicksack, also putting 
another on ray back, and taking the third in my hand, I 
began the descent. The first hundred feet proved the 
impossibility of going on without lightening the load ; so 
the smaller head and skin were left on a rock at the bot- 
tom of the canon. Then another start was made with 
the remaining pack rearranged and with the rifle slung 
on my back. The descent was so steep and the canon 



78 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

so dark that it was necessary to climb to the slope above 
and zigzag slowly downward. I was unable to see the 
surface of the ground and advanced slowly, feeling each 
step, falling several times, continually stopping to rest 
and rearrange the pack and the head. Gradually I 
worked down to timber-line where, though it was darker, 
the footing was smoother, and finally I reached the 
creek. It had required two and a half hours to make a 
descent of less than two miles. 

Fording and refording, now resting, now fixing the 
pack, I kept on in the rain. As daylight returned it 
became easier to travel and I reached camp at 4 a. m. 
A fire was soon started; some food and tea taken; then 
repose, and my pipe; after which strength returned and I 
slept. 

We had succeeded in the main object of the trip, 
which was to obtain good specimens of the sheep of that 
region. None were so dark as the so-called Fannin 
sheep, but some were good representatives of the white 
Dall sheep, except the color of the tails, which in all of 
them was black. Probably half the sheep in this locality 
faintly displayed the pattern of the Fannin sheep, but all 
were nearer the color of the other.* It is worth recording 
that all the sheep seen in the first band of rams had the 
widely spread type of horns; all in this second band had 
the narrow type. 

August 3-6. — The next three days were spent in 
camp, except that short trips were made by Rungius and 
Osgood to bring back the meat and remaining skins, to 

* See appendix for descriptions of the types; also see plate in Chapter XX. 




Ph.itii-iaph hy W H. ()^^^,(,(l 



By pL-rmib^ion nf the U. S. BiologitaJ Survey 

Breaking the hunting camp. 




Photograph by Carl Rungius. 



Travelling down Coal Creek. 



THE FINAL STALK 79 

gather the traps and make local sketches. Runglus 
sketched the heads of my sheep in the flesh, after which 
I prepared them and spent the time arranging and drying 
them. The fourth day I went down the creek and up 
the branch that enters below the forks, on the chance 
of finding a bear, but saw nothing, and returned after 
an interesting tramp among the mountains. 

August 7 was spent in breaking camp, shoeing the 
horses, and making up the packs. Osgood had collected 
one hundred and ten specimens of small mammals and 
birds, besides the larger game. We slept for the last 
time in that delightful camp, and the next morning 
packed and started. The return was rapid as compared 
with the trip up river. It was all down grade; we knew 
the route; the trail had been cut; the loads were lighter, 
only that of the caribou horns being bulky and awkward. 
There were numerous salmon in the river; bear tracks, 
those of the black bear only, were more plentiful, and a 
few fresh moose tracks were seen. On the afternoon of 
August 1 1 we reached the Yukon River. 

Long before leaving Coal Creek a steamer whistle re- 
minded us of civilization. Our exact travelling time from 
camp at the head of Coal Creek to the Yukon River, de- 
ducting all stops of over five minutes, was twenty-one 
hours and four minutes. We forded Coal Creek fifty- 
eight times. While in the hunting country it had rained 
eight days, but only twice did fog and rain prevent rea- 
sonable hunting. Twenty-seven days were clear, and at 
no time was there a very strong wind. 

A steamer was being loaded with coal at the chutes, 



8o THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

but owing to their faulty construction three days were 
required to load a barge; therefore we were obliged to 
endure the delay. We boarded the steamer August 14, 
and the following afternoon arrived in Dawson, where 
everything was packed and sent to Washington. 



THE MacMILLAN RIVER 



84 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

August 21. — The necessary canoes were loaded on 
board, and shortly after noon, August 22, the little 
steamer, Emma Knot, started and was propelled slowly 
against the swift current, stopping at intervals to take 
on wood, until it was tied up to the bank at 10 p. m. It 
could not be navigated during the hours of darkness — 
then between 9.30 p. m. and 3 a. m. Before going into 
our canvas bunks, especially constructed one above the 
other, under a shelter of canvas on the stern deck, we 
witnessed a fine display of the Aurora. The weather was 
clear and continued like Indian summer as long as we 
remained on the steamer. 

August 22. — For the next two days the boat steamed 
against the current, tying up during the dark hours of 
the night, until shortly after noon on August 24th we 
reached Selkirk. There the other man whom I had en- 
gaged — Coghlan, by name — met us. A few provisions 
were purchased, our travelling clothes were left at the 
Police Post in Selkirk, and late in the afternoon we were 
all glad to leave the Yukon and enter the Pelly — a river 
rarely navigated by steamboats — where the boat could 
make better headway because of the slower current. The 
current of the Yukon at that season runs four and five 
miles an hour; that of the Pelly about three or less. We 
stopped seven miles up the river at the Pelly Road House 
— a large inn owned by the White Pass and Yukon Rail- 
way, at a division terminal on the winter stage route — 
and there took on two canoes kindly loaned us by A. B. 
Newell, vice-president of the railway. 

Four miles farther up, the boat, striking the rocky 



THE FORKS OF THE MacMILLAN RIVER 85 

bed of the river, had a hole punched in its bottom, small, 
but bad enough to cause us to tie up for repairs. We 
remained there during the dark hours of the night. We 
had been assured that not more than five days would 
be required to reach the head of navigation on the Mac- 
Millan River, but were beginning to realize that it would 
take longer. 

August 25. — Starting the next morning and forcing 
our way against the current, we glided between high 
terraces which often shut out a sight of the rolling hills 
and low ridges farther back from the river. From its 
mouth to the MacMillan River, the Pelly, tortuous in its 
course, is from four hundred to eight hundred feet wide, 
and flows through a low country. It is closely bordered 
by low hills and ridges, and often flows between terraces, 
some of which rise far back from the river to heights of 
one hundred and fifty to two hundred feet. These, often 
lightly wooded, mostly with poplars, and clothed with 
grass, particularly on the southern exposures, present a 
very attractive appearance. Blufi^s or high escarped 
banks are usually on one side or the other, and opposite 
them are wide gravel bars, fairly smooth, so that it is 
quite easy to tow a canoe up the river. The distance to 
the mouth of the MacMillan along the river is seventy- 
four miles and the current runs at the rate of two and 
one-half to three miles an hour. Here and there wide 
flats intervene between the river and the terraced hills. 

Now and then we frightened a flock of mergansers, 
and twice saw a graceful duck-hawk sailing by. The 
landscape was warmed by the poplars, then showing a 



86 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

tinge of fall color. Numerous old game trails came to 
the river. These trails often extend along the banks and 
are used by Indians both in summer and fall. Several 
men were aboard, to be put off at a wood camp to cut 
fuel and assemble it into a raft which the boat on return- 
ing could tow to Dawson. Late in the afternoon we 
reached the camp and went ashore to wander about, 
eating luscious red cranberries and feeling the exhilara- 
tion of exercise in the warm cheery sunshine. At inter- 
vals along the river were groves of dry spruces close to 
the bank. Such groves provide the fuel for steamboats 
on all the northern rivers which are not navigated often 
enough by steam to encourage wood-choppers to locate 
wood camps along the banks to sell wood to passing 
steamers. Our men at once began to fell trees, and all 
of us assisted in loading them on the boat. From then 
on we were delayed from two to four hours each day 
thus to cut and load wood. 

After starting again some of us noticed an indifference 
on the part of the captain about continuing, and I must 
say a word about this Swedish captain, who was respon- 
sible for most of our troubles during the remainder of the 
time we were on the steamboat. He proved to be noth- 
ing but a deep-water sailor, who had somehow drifted 
into Dawson and become a conspicuous member of the 
Salvation Army, which for some time had been active 
there. He was bigoted, lacked every kind of courage 
and nerve, and, still worse, knew nothing about river 
navigation, as we soon afterward learned. He was al- 
ready beginning to doubt the possibility of navigating 



THE FORKS OF THE MacMILLAN RIVER 87 

much farther up the Pelly, giving as a reason 'Mow 
water/' 

August 26. — Fog prevented the boat from starting 
until 6.30 the next morning and we reached the lower 
end of Granite Canon at nine. This canon, four miles 
long, is bordered with steep, rocky scarped banks, and 
cliffs from two hundred to two hundred and fifty feet in 
height. The river through the canon is fairly wide and 
deep, though at low water there are several shallow 
rapids and numerous isolated rocks which it needs skil- 
ful steering to avoid. The captain uncertainly attempted 
to manage the boat, and just before entering the canon 
put her into the sand-bank of a little island in midstream. 
Then backing her, while nobody knew what he was try- 
ing to do, he took her to the bank and tied her up, say- 
ing that if he attempted to go through he would lose her. 
It was evident that a stiff rapid just ahead had frightened 
him. 

Fortunately, our man Coghlan was an experienced 
river navigator, and, after going along the bank and look- 
ing at the water, he told us that it would not be difficult 
or dangerous to "rope" up through a part of the rapid 
to a point where the boat could steam against it. After 
two hours of discussion and persuasion, the captain was 
induced to make the attempt. All available ropes were 
then spliced to a length of over three hundred feet; we 
all gave a hand, pulled the line along the shore, and 
fastened it to a tree on the bank. After being pushed 
from shore, the boat was given a course, and, assisted 
by the steam-propelled revolutions of the winch, started 



88 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

steaming against the dancing current. The slack of the 
rope was not even taken up, its own weight adding 
enough pull to make up for the slight lack of power in the 
paddle-wheel, which did not have quite enough to propel 
the boat against the rapids. After two hundred feet 
the doubtful part was passed, the rope loosened, and we 
went through the rest of the caiion without difficulty. 

Soon we saw in the distance the MacMillan range 
of mountains — the first imposing mountains seen since 
we had entered the Felly — and at about five o'clock we 
steamed into the MacMillan River. The landscape 
changed and we realized with satisfaction that more than 
half of our journey had been completed. 

The MacMillan River was discovered in 1843 by 
Robert Campbell — a resolute pioneer of the Hudson 
Bay Company, to whom we owe the first exploration 
of that section of the northern wilderness. He named it 
in honor of Chief Factor MacMillan of the Hudson Bay 
Company. When Dr. George M. Dawson made his 
famous trip down the Felly, in 1887, little was known 
about the river, only a few prospectors having ascended 
it for a short distance, without finding good prospects. 
The Klondike rush of 1897 and 1898 sent a large overflow 
of prospectors up the Felly and MacMillan, and soon 
trappers established their trapping lines over the entire 
country of both rivers almost to their sources. 

But it was not until the summer of 1902 that it was 
explored and mapped, fortunately by those able and 
energetic men of the Canadian Geological Survey — R. G. 
McConnell and Joseph Keele. Its total length is about 



THE FORKS OF THE MacMILLAN RIVER 89 

two hundred and eighty-five miles. A hundred and fifty 
miles up it forks into two well-defined branches. Its 
width is from three hundred to five hundred feet; its 
current sluggish, not exceeding three miles an hour in 
the lower reaches and usually less than that of the Pelly, 
while above it is more accelerated — from three to five 
miles in places- Its volume is not quite equal to that 
of the Pelly River, and its water is much more turgid. 
Up to the Forks it traverses a timbered valley from one 
to six miles wide, interspersed with swamps and meadows, 
and containing numerous small lakes. High clay banks 
are common along its course, and wide gravel bars occur 
in a manner similar to those along the Pelly. 

The character of the country is mountainous. The 
MacMillan ranges come close to the river on the north 
side, the peaks varying from three thousand to five thou- 
sand eight hundred feet above sea level. Continuing on 
the same side is the Kalzas range with Kalzas Peak six 
thousand one hundred feet high, close to the river. 
Farther up the river is Plateau Mountain, which continues 
in high ranges beyond the Forks to the western edge of 
the main Rockies, designated by McConnell as the Selwyn 
range. Opposite the MacMillan range, on the south 
side, are plateau-shaped masses nearly three thousand feet 
high, broken by wide valleys as far as Dromedary Moun- 
tain, where big, massive mountains continue irregularly 
up the South Fork to the Selwyn range. The river winds 
back and forth from one side of the valley to the other in 
a succession of curves. 

Surrounded by impressive mountain scenery, pro- 



90 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

gressing with accelerated speed against a slower current, 
we steamed up the river for two hours, until the boat 
was tied to the bank for the purpose of cutting and load- 
ing wood. The night came on, clear and cold, while the 
stars glittered through the trees. It was dark at nine 
o'clock. A large camp-fire was made, which spread 
warmth and geniality to all of us sitting about it. That 
night the thermometer went down to twenty degrees 
Fahrenheit. 

August 27. — An hour after starting, the captain, fail- 
ing to "read the water,'* ran the bow into the mud well 
outside the channel. We pottered about in disgust for 
two hours before getting her off, as the usual tackle 
for such purposes had not been brought. The day was 
clear and calm. As we passed along the MacMillan 
range, the peaks and ridges of Dromedary Mountain were 
visible in the distance, and on the north the Kalzas range 
appeared, its highest summits close to the river. The 
scenery all day was like the Canadian wilderness with the 
added grandeur of imposing mountain ranges on both 
sides. In rounding the numerous curves, we reduced to 
half speed, so that the average distance was not gained 
on the day's trip. A flock of geese was seen, and often, 
on the bars, tracks of moose and bears. 

It had become clear to all that the captain was not 
able to handle the boat. He kept failing to see the 
channel, even when it was perfectly clear to inexperi- 
enced eyes like my own, and, after running on another 
bar, he exclaimed that it was suicidal to attempt to navi- 
gate the river; and at Kalzas Creek, only thirty miles 




Photograph by W. H. Osgood. By permission of the U. S. liiologicul Survey. 

MacMillan AIouxtains from the MacMillan River. 




Photograph by W. H. Osgood. By permission of the U. S. Biological Survey. 

"The peaks and ridges of Dromedary Mountain were visible in the distance." 



THE FORKS OF THE MacMILLAN RIVER 91 

up from the Pelly, announced that we must load our 
canoes and proceed as best we could. Before reaching 
there the boat had been tied to the bank to repair an 
auxiliary rudder, bent because of his bungling, and we 
were told to unload. Our destination was a hundred and 
eighty miles beyond, and to proceed that distance in 
canoes meant nothing less than the failure of the trip. 
Consternation rapidly developed into indignation. Two 
hours were lost in discussion, and finally the boat pro- 
ceeded. Navigation was better until we tied up near the 
foot of Kalzas Mountain. 

August 28. — After an early start we proceeded all day 
without much trouble, notwithstanding the captain's con- 
stant assertions as to the impossibility of advancing. Per- 
haps we covered a distance of fifty miles. While winding 
about between the high mountain ranges on both sides, 
we noticed much "beaver cutting," and also numerous 
beaver houses, always situated at the edge of the banks 
of the river, in an eddy outside the current. Only three 
beavers, however, were seen during the day. 

From that part of the river up as far as I went on the 
North Fork, "beaver cutting" was plentiful wherever large 
balsam poplars grew on the banks. The beavers had 
felled many of these trees by gnawing around the butt until 
it assumed the shape of an hour-glass. It is a common 
notion that the beaver is so intelligent that it deliberately 
cuts the tree in such a way as to cause it to fall away 
from the bank. Many of the trees, however, had fallen 
in the direction of the river, and some over the bank. We 
cannot, therefore, graft on the marvellous instinct of the 



92 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

beaver an intelligence which enables it to reason out a 
method of felling trees which shall determine the direc- 
tion of their fall. The size of the trees thus felled varied 
from one to fifteen inches in diameter. The purpose of 
felling them is to gnaw off the branches and bring them 
to the houses for a supply of winter food. All winter 
they subsist on the bark. Houses of a circular shape, 
usually constructed against the bank near the fallen trees, 
consist of an irregular mass of sticks of different sizes, 
with sometimes a few small logs, and the whole chinked 
with earth. The green branches are packed about the 
houses and, undoubtedly, the beaver finds a way of 
reaching them in the winter. 

In suitable tributaries and small channels, where the 
river has cut a course around the land, the beavers make 
dams, which back up the water to form lakes, and there 
construct larger houses. When we were on the Mac- 
Millan the beavers existed there in a practically undis- 
turbed state, like that of beavers in early times in other 
parts of North America. Martens and lynxes were so 
abundant, and the fur of the former was so much more 
valuable that the trappers had not yet attempted the 
more difficult task of trapping the beavers. Fortunately 
but few Indians hunt on the MacMillan River. The 
lower part of the river is included in the hunting territory 
of the tribe at Lake Tatlaman. They are reduced to a 
few families. Beyond, as far as the Forks, the territory 
belongs to the Indians living at the mouth of the Little 
Salmon River, but they never come to the MacMillan 
except in winter, and then they seldom trap beavers. 




Photograph by \V. H. Osgood. By permission of the U. S. Biological Survey. 

"Beaver cutting" on bank of MacMillan River. 




Photograph by \V. H. Osgood. By permission of the U. S. Biological Survey. 

Beaver house in eddy of M.acMillan River. 



THE FORKS OF THE MacMILLAN RIVER 93 

Indians prefer the easier work of shooting them when the 
water is open. They are very fond of their flesh and 
destroy them indiff^erently in summer and fall. Two 
years later beaver trapping had begun, and when Selous 
went up there he found the beavers diminished. In 
1908 I saw MacMillan River trappers in Dawson who 
told me that all had been trapped, which means that not 
enough were left to make it pay to trap them. 

Everywhere in the upper reaches of the river we con- 
stantly saw beavers, both swimming in the water and on 
the banks. As a warning that certain actions of animals 
must not be interpreted too quickly, Selous has men- 
tioned the resounding slap of the tail which the beaver 
makes when it dives. This has often been called a warn- 
ing signal. He mentions two cases of beavers sitting on 
the bank, which were not alarmed by the slap of the tails 
of others, even when sounded close by. On the North 
Fork I myself twice saw beavers dive when I was con- 
cealed in the alders near the bank, so that they were 
wholly unsuspicious. In both cases their tails slapped 
the water. Some other interpretation of the habit must 
be attempted — perhaps it is caused by a muscular con- 
traction to assist in sudden diving. 

Besides the beavers no animals except red squirrels — 
always abundant in the woods — had been seen since 
leaving Dawson. The variety of birds observed on the 
the whole trip was small. Only the delightful weather, 
the wild aspect of the country, the rugged mountain 
scenery, and the approach to the hunting country, offset 
the tediousness of being cooped up on a small steamer 



94 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

day after day, while our patience was tested by doubts 
as to the ability and disposition of the captain to take the 
boat up to within a reasonable distance of the Forks. 

August 29. — ^We were awakened by the boat striking 
hard on a bar, and I heard the captain exclaim that he 
would not go on. After two hours, we worked it off and 
proceeded all day until we tied up opposite Plateau 
Mountain. While gazing at the crest through my field- 
glasses I saw seven or eight caribou feeding near the 
top and gradually moving over to the other side. 

August 30. — In the morning, just before starting, I 
saw a single caribou walking along the crest of Plateau 
Mountain, and we watched it for some time until it was 
lost to view. This sight of game had encouraged us, 
as all day we steamed on, making slow progress against 
more frequent riffles and around sharper curves, until 
seven o'clock, when the captain ran the boat hard on a bar 
and it was decided to remain there until morning. Drift- 
wood was abundant and a huge fire was made, so that 
by its light we could see well enough to cut wood and 
carry it on the boat. 

August 31. — After pulling the boat off the bar she 
again went hard aground, a hundred yards farther on, 
owing to the usual stupidity of the captain, whose com- 
plaints were becoming so intolerable that we were almost 
ready to take to our canoes. After working three hours 
to make it free, we steamed on again, stopping to pick 
up a beaver which the half-breed, Louis, had killed the 
night before. Its tail — considered by many, especially 
Indians, as a great delicacy — was cooked and served, but 



THE FORKS OF THE MacMILLAN RIVER 95 

it proved too rich and oily for our palates. At noon we 
came to a bend where a log in a drift jam projected out 
part way in the channel, and although we sent out men 
who quickly cut it, the captain positively refused to go 
on; nor were we loath to leave the boat. We unloaded 
canoes and supplies in the rain, made a rough camp, 
when Selous, Rungius, and Osgood started off, each 
tramping in different directions, and returned later with- 
out having seen any game or even signs of any. 

Thus ended a steamboat trip up one of the sub-arctic 
rivers of the north-west — a typical trip on the small boats 
of that country, irresponsibly manned, as they usually are 
when attempting to navigate new rivers. What a relief 
later, after a repast of biscuit, tea, and bacon, to sit before 
a large camp-fire and feel the freedom and liberty of the 
wilderness! The party was too large to successfully hunt 
from one camp, so Selous and I planned to go up the 
North Fork, taking Louis and Coghlan; Rungius and 
Osgood decided to go with Gage up Russell Creek to the 
Russell Mountains, while the others were attracted by the 
country up the South Fork. 

September I. — The next morning all canoes were 
loaded and we started. Poling, towing, paddling back 
and forth across the river, we slowly worked up against 
the current, and at noon reached Russell Creek, where 
Rungius and Osgood remained to go twelve miles farther 
up it to the mountain ranges. 

Two years before, gold had been discovered on Russell 
Creek and a concession was obtained and sold to an 
English company. A young Englishman named Arm- 



96 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

strong had been up there all summer with a force of 
men for the purpose of prospecting it. We met the 
whole party at the mouth of the creek, where they were 
constructing boats to take them down river. It was most 
fortunate for me, since I was able to secure from them 
a supply of sugar, which by some oversight I had failed 
to bring. Wishing luck to Rungius and Osgood, the 
rest of us soon started and late in the afternoon reached 
the Forks. There Selous and I separated from the others 
and started up North Fork. Taking canoes up this 
Fork, especially when the water is low, is a harrowing 
journey of persistent, hard work. 



CHAPTER VI 

UP THE NORTH FORK TO THE SELWYN ROCKIES— 1904 

The North Fork of the MacMillan varies in width 
from seventy-five to two hundred feet. The current races 
in numerous rapids around sharp curves, from five to 
eight miles an hour, often along wide bars, and the banks 
are full of driftwood, piled high in many places, causing 
great difficulty in taking canoes around it. This Fork 
resembles a mountain torrent more than the ordinary 
river of the territory. We were obliged to tow the canoes 
as far as we went, making use of paddles only for cross- 
ing, and poles only to go around driftwood. The coun- 
try on the right — between the Forks — consists of low, 
rolling ridges; on the left it rises gradually to the Russell 
Mountains, which were then white with snow that had 
fallen the night before. That snow did not melt again 
before the following spring. 

After going three miles we made camp in the spruce 
woods, where red squirrels were very abundant, chatter- 
ing on all sides. Selous took his rifle and wandered for a 
short distance up the river while I went back in the 
woods. We returned later, and sat before the fire, re- 
joicing to be separated from a crowd, so that we could 
realize a more genuine wilderness charm as we watched 
the sparks of the fire shooting up through the spruce trees, 

97 



98 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

and heard the splashing of the river as it raced around 
the banks and ghded over its rocky bottom. 

September 2. — The next day we towed the boats, each 
of us doing a share of work indifferently with our men, 
until noon, when we stopped to make tea and eat lunch. 
With ropes over our shoulders, we took turns at the 
heavy pulling, walking on the bars, wading in the icy 
cold water, toiling around driftwood, crossing from one 
side of the river to the other, and continually straining 
to drag the boats up the riffles. It was very hard work 
and progress was slow. The river ran between ridges 
which were mostly covered with black spruce and pop- 
lars, though here and there white birches appeared. 
The poplars and birches, tinted with fall colors, bright- 
ened the wildness of the landscape. On the bars, numer- 
ous tracks of bears attested their annual feasting on 
salmon, all of which had died before our arrival. Moose 
tracks, most of them old, were also abundant. 

Not long after we had lunched, as Selous and I were 
hauling the canoes, Louis saw a cow moose and her calf 
well ahead on the other side of the river, and about to 
cross. Selous, who was ahead, quickly took his rifle 
from the canoe and crept forward, while we crouched 
to the ground. As they waded the river, he circled 
around some driftwood, waded a slough, and shot the 
cow just as she was about to enter the woods. She stag- 
gered back toward the river and fell dead in a slough. 
As he signalled that she had fallen, I ran forward to 
follow him. The calf, trotting about in perplexity, sud- 
denly saw him and coming directly toward him stopped 



NORTH FORK TO THE SELWYN ROCKIES 99 

to look at him, the hair on its foreshoulders erect and 
bristHng. Running back, I took my kodak from the boat 
and returned in time to take a photograph, including both 
Selous and the calf, which was by that time trotting 
toward the woods. The wind was blowing directly from 
him to the calf. 

The others then came forward, and the moose was 
dragged up on the bank and dressed. Here was meat 
for the first time in several days, and we camped there 
to enjoy the feast. Selous taught me a new delicacy — 
the udder, which was cut out and boiled for several 
hours until soft and tender. The next morning it was 
sliced, rolled in flour, and fried. It proved to be delicious, 
the choicest morsel of the animal. The same is true, as 
I learned later, of the udders of sheep, caribou, and deer. 

While dressing the moose a small black gnat, slightly 
larger than the midge of Eastern Canada, swarmed about 
us and its bite was particularly annoying. The small 
gnats begin to be troublesome all over the northern 
country about the middle of August, after most of the 
mosquitoes are gone, and continue until well into Sep- 
tember. They usually are found close to running water, 
but are seldom seen above timber-line. 

We took our rifles and went out for the remainder of 
the day, Selous going up the bars, while I went back on 
the ridges between the Forks. I followed a brook through 
dense spruces, swamps, and deep sphagnum moss, to the 
top of a ridge. High up on these ridges I found well- 
beaten moose trails, usually running parallel with the 
river; in some places they were worn three or four feet 



100 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

through the moss and soft ground to the roots of the 
spruce trees. These trails are well-defined routes of 
moose travel, and though intersected by others which 
are less deeply worn, they parallel all the rivers and often 
the smaller streams. The country was completely cov- 
ered with timber and very broken, the slopes of the 
ridges often very steep ; and numerous brooks rising from 
springs or small lakes farther back fell through small 
canons. There was little sign of game outside of the 
moose trails; birds were very scarce, but rabbits and 
red squirrels abundant. Such is the character of the coun- 
try between the forks until well up the river near the 
mountain ranges. 

Returning I found a cheerful camp-fire, and after 
gorging with meat, we chatted awhile before sleeping. 
Suddenly, a short wailing cry sounded from the dark 
woods not far distant. It was made by the calf, and we 
both felt glad that it was old enough to take care of itself, 
after the loss of its mother. We did not hear it again, 
and slept in the cold, crisp air under the shining stars. 

September 3. — The next day was one of continuous 
towing in shallow water against a swifter current; the 
driftwood increasing; the river curving more frequently. 
At one point, near a high escarped bank, where the river 
bends sharply to the south, we found a large beaver dam, 
constructed across the mouth of a creek-channel, made 
by the escape of a small volume of water around a bar 
some distance above. Behind it were acres of water 
flooding willows, alders, and poplars, and not far back 
a family of beavers occupied a large house in three or 



NORTH FORK TO THE SELWYN ROCKIES loi 

four feet of water, surrounded by high poplars and wil- 
lows. Selous and I waded to it and after examining it 
with interest I took some photographs of it. 

We made camp late in the afternoon near a flat swamp 
covered with willows, alders, dwarf birch, and strewn 
with burnt timber. After tramping about in it, Selous 
returned and reported more fresh moose signs than we 
had seen at any point along the river. Here we first 
had a glimpse of the Selwyn range of mountains, rising 
ahead in majestic peaks and offering encouragement 
for a better game country. 

As we were sitting about the fire fifty feet away from 
the bank, in a dense thicket of woods, Louis suddenly 
heard a bull moose walking on a bar on the opposite 
side of the river. It was several degrees below frost and 
Selous, though without trousers or shoes, took his rifle 
and followed by Louis and myself picked his way in 
the dark through the thick, tangled woods to the bank 
of the river. But the moose had entered the poplars 
and Louis in vain tried to entice it out by caUing with a 
birch-bark horn. 

September 4. — In the morning a cold, stiff head-wind 
chilled us and continued all day, as we plodded on under 
conditions constantly becoming more difficult; and we 
were disappointed not to see the mountains ahead, which 
were covered with clouds. We finally arrived at Barr 
Creek, where two trappers. Jack Barr and Crosby, had 
been trapping the previous winter. We had seen a flock 
of mergansers that day — the first ducks observed on the 
North branch. Few birds of any kind had been noticed, 



102 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

except an occasional hawk floating through the air or sit- 
ting on a dead tree. 

We pitched camp in a delightful spot in heavy spruce 
woods, and Selous, as usual, went up the river to prospect 
for game. I had each day set out traps for small mam- 
mals, but without success. In front of camp, across the 
river, were wide bars covered with willows, poplars, and 
alders, all glowing with a rich fall color. The river, swift 
and deep, fairly roared as it swirled around a huge pile of 
driftwood and beat against the banks. 

September 5. — It was snowing when we started; the 
wind continued, and it was freezing in the afternoon, but 
the travelling was a little better because of more bars 
and less driftwood. It was gloomy work; all the hills 
and ridges covered with thick clouds so we could see 
nothing of the country ahead. At three in the after- 
noon, when I came around a curve while Selous was a 
few hundred yards ahead, I saw a large black bear, 
feeding high on the slope of a ridge which extended paral- 
lel with the river. Attracting Selous's attention I has- 
tened forward and urged him to go after it since he had 
never before seen a wild bear in the wilderness. Coghlan, 
Louis, and I tied the canoes to the bank, and watched the 
stalk, all of which could be plainly seen from where we 
stood on the bank of the river. On the slopes of the 
ridge were many clear areas, which had been given a 
reddish appearance by dwarf birch and huckleberry 
bushes, then colored by the frost. It was in one of these 
clear spaces that the bear was feeding. At intervals, 
between them, strips of dense timber and undergrowth. 



NORTH FORK TO THE SELWYN ROCKIES 103 

several hundred feet wide, extended down to the river. 
Selous started upward in a circle, and soon we saw him 
climbing the ridge in one of the clearings, where there 
was but one strip of timber between him and the bear, 
which continued to feed, gradually approaching the tim- 
ber. Having marked well the spot where he had last 
seen the bear, he arrived at a point exactly opposite it 
and started directly toward the timber. His approach 
was then against the wind and he cautiously and slowly 
went forward. Through my glasses, I could plainly see 
the bear as it approached the woods, directly in line with 
Selous's advance, its glossy black coat reflecting the sun- 
light, which at times caused it to appear very large. 
Both Selous and the bear entered the timber at the same 
time, apparently approaching directly toward each other, 
and momentarily I expected to hear a shot. Soon we 
saw Selous emerge a little above where the bear had 
entered, and proceed with caution, carefully looking 
about. We knew that he had not seen the bear. After- 
ward, I learned that the timber was filled with small 
spruces, alders, and dwarf birch, so he could see only 
a few feet in any direction. But he must have gone 
through noiselessly and with skill, passing the bear within 
a hundred feet or so, for shortly after he appeared, the 
bear came out a little below the point where Selous had 
entered the timber, and continued travelling in the oppo- 
site direction, still feeding, and wholly unconscious of its 
lucky escape. It fed along indifferently until it reached 
the trail which Selous had made when ascending. Then 
it suddenly threw up its head, gave a great jump, and 



104 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

running with speed down the ridge disappeared in the 
timber. Once before, in Mexico, I had seen a similar 
action on the part of a grizzly bear when it crossed the 
fresh trail of a man, and it was extremely interesting 
thus to witness a second case. Selous, still looking for 
the bear, had passed out of sight along the ridge. When 
the bear began to run, I immediately crossed the river, 
and, in my efforts to hurry in the direction it had taken, 
almost bogged myself in a slough. I could not find a 
trace of it and returned. Selous came in later, after we 
had made camp, thoroughly perplexed at not having 
seen the bear at all. Though an excellent stalk was 
frustrated by such bad luck, the sight of game was stimu- 
lating and made us eager to advance, particularly since 
our goal was then not very far ahead. 

September 6. — We had undertaken to go up the North 
Branch without any knowledge of the country, so it was 
necessary for us to explore for a goood place to find 
game. The next day was the most trying one of our 
trip up the North Branch It was cold, cloudy, windy, 
and wintry. The river was narrower and more tortuous; 
its banks were continually lined with driftwood and bor- 
dered by ice ; the current was swifter, and often the water 
was so shallow that we had difficulty in towing the canoes 
without unloading them. Until late in the afternoon we 
worked while hands, legs, and feet were numb with cold. 
At a point where the river bends to the north and finds 
its course between high mountain ranges, not far below 
Husky Dog Creek, we decided to stop and make a recon- 
naissance with a view to locating a camp at timber-line, 




w pq 






NORTH FORK TO THE SELWYN ROCKIES 105 

high on the ranges to the south. It was so misty that we 
could not see the mountains, and soon snow began to 
fall and continued more or less all night. It was dark 
at 7.30. 

September 7. — In the morning three or four inches of 
snow covered the ground, and snow continued to fall at 
intervals all day. Selous soon started to investigate 
moose signs on the flats, while I directed my course 
toward the mountains, hoping to find a good place near 
timber-line to make a camp, and also a good route up 
the slopes, since we were obliged to carry our equipment 
and provisions on our backs. 

South of the river, a hundred feet from the bank, is a 
terrace thirty or forty feet high which extends north, 
parallel with the river for many miles. The country 
behind it, both flat and rolling, extends two miles to the 
foot of the mountains. This broad, level country, all 
burnt over, was covered with moss, brush, huckleberry 
bushes, and cranberries, and strewn with tangled logs. 
Swampy in places, it is dotted with small lakes, and the 
standing burnt trees scattered through it give an aspect 
of grim desolation. Old moose tracks were everywhere, 
and well-cut trails parallel with the river were frequent. 
While passing through it I saw several flocks of migrating 
robins, a grouse, some hawk owls, and many Alaska jays 
and red squirrels. But no other animals were observed 
during the rest of the day, and the fresh snow disclosed 
no tracks of any kind, except those of red squirrels. 

I climbed the lower ridges, ascended the mountains to 
timber-line, and followed along the side of a deep ravine. 



io6 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

through which a fair-sized brook, cutting in some places 
deep canons, came down from a rather broad valley, 
between high, rough mountains. This valley, gently 
rising, was enclosed in an amphitheatre of rugged moun- 
tains, rising abruptly to high peaks and jagged crests 
glistening in the snow. All through the northern coun- 
try such places are called draws, signifying, I think, a 
suitable conformation of the land to "draw'* the water 
from the adjacent mountain slopes. At the heads of 
each of these draws above timber, there is usually an 
area, level or gently sloping, covered with dwarf birch, 
willow, and alder, all extending well up the adjacent 
slopes. The ground is boggy, and the abundant willow 
growth provides the favorite food of the moose in fall 
and winter. Everywhere at the head of a draw old 
moose tracks were so abundant that the place looked like 
a cow pasture, and as many tracks were observed among 
the willows of the higher slopes as in the area below. A 
well-defined moose trail always runs on each side of the 
creeks which flow from the draws, and the trail often 
leads over low saddles between the ranges to the head of 
another draw. 

I chose a place for a camp close to the brook, near 
the end of timber, in a location suitable for climbing the 
mountains on either side. The mountains were then 
so covered with mist that I could not use my field-glasses 
to find likely places for sheep. On returning I learned 
that Selous had seen no fresh signs of any kind. Our 
limited time, the difficulty of climbing the mountains cov- 
ered with light snow, our ignorance of the country, and 



NORTH FORK TO THE SELWYN ROCKIES 107 

the lack of game seen up to that time, did not look en- 
couraging; and since the snow continued to fall, we felt 
some anxiety as to the ultimate success of our trip. 

September 8. — Snow was falling when we rose, but it 
was a wet snow and not likely to continue all day; we 
therefore decided to start. A cache was made by sus- 
pending some poles about ten feet up between trees, and 
on it were placed the provisions and materials we could 
not carry. These caches are always necessary, as other- 
wise provisions might be taken by bears, wolverines, or 
wolves. Packs were made up and, putting them on our 
backs, we started about noon, crossed the flat, and while 
climbing the ridges were soaked to the skin from the wet 
snow suspended on the brush. This caused us to become 
chilled as we toiled upward with aching backs through 
deep snow and thick undergrowth. The mountains, cov- 
ered with mist, could not be seen. Late in the afternoon, 
as we were walking on the slope near the upper flat of 
the draw, Louis, who was ahead, saw a bull moose feed- 
ing in the willow brush some seven or eight hundred yards 
below, near the brook. Selous, who was following Louis, 
immediately started to find an approach to it, and con- 
cealed as we were behind some low spruces, we had the 
pleasure of watching the whole stalk. 

For a few moments I watched the moose as he was 
standing and feeding, but as I turned my head to note 
Selous's course, the bull apparently disappeared, and Louis 
whispered that he had lain down. I looked carefully 
through my field-glasses, but he blended so perfectly with 
the willows and alders that he was not visible. Finally, 



io8 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

as he moved his head, I could make out the tops of his 
horns, then hardly distinguishable from the brush be- 
cause of the strips of velvet still hanging on them. We 
waited with keen interest for Selous to come in sight. 
He had started in a circular course to approach the 
moose against the wind, which was blowing up the brook. 
He finally appeared and began to approach with the 
utmost caution, advancing in a straight line toward the 
exact spot where the moose was resting. Selous was too 
experienced to have neglected to mark a tall tree near 
which the moose was standing when he started, so that 
he could find the place after circling through the woods. 
Finally, coming nearer, he advanced step by step to 
within thirty feet and stood looking. Louis whispered: 
"Now you see moose jump and run!" But I saw Selous 
approach a few steps, bend forward, put up his rifle and 
fire. He immediately shouted, and knowing the moose 
was dead we hurried to the spot. Selous had suspected 
that the moose was lying down, and at last had seen the 
tips of its horns. A step or two nearer brought the head 
and neck of the unsuspecting bull in sight, and the 
bullet was delivered at the base of the brain. It was 
a large old bull, with broad, flat horns, well palmated, 
spreading fifty-seven inches — an unusually fine trophy. 

That was our introduction to a camp soon made near 
the carcass. We had brought only a large piece of can- 
vas, and when poles had been cut and inclined against 
a cross-pole, it was thrown over them. Spruce bows 
were strewn beneath it and the shelter was complete. A 
big fire was started; the packs were opened; their con- 




Selous's bull, shot September 8. 




"We endured it sitting under the shelter," September 14. 



NORTH FORK TO THE SELWYN ROCKIES 109 

tents arranged in order under the shelter, and after feast- 
ing on fresh meat we sat in front of the fire that night 
feehng more cheerful than at any time since leaving 
Dawson. We were at last camped high up among the 
mountains, a fine trophy was in our possession, and we 
slept soundly after enjoying the dim picture of the 
rugged mountain in front, its peak, viewed through the 
spark-spangled smoke of the fire, towering high above 
like a huge white spectre. The mercury responded to 
the higher elevation by descending to sixteen degrees 
Fahrenheit above zero, the lowest recorded up to that 
time. 

September 9. — It was snowing the next morning, but 
cleared soon after I started to climb the ridge north of 
camp and ascend the high mountains beyond. Selous 
remained in camp to prepare his trophy. The snow on 
the low spruces and dwarf birches gave a true wintry aspect 
to the landscape. Up to that time I had not convinced 
myself that leather moccasins were a failure for walking 
in the snow, but during the ascent of a steep slope, covered 
with five inches of snow, I soon realized it. Slipping and 
often falling, it was next to impossible to climb, but finally 
I reached the top. The sky was perfectly clear and for 
the first time I beheld the landscape of the Selwyn ranges. 

They are entirely different from the Ogilvie Rockies. 
Instead of a series of parallel ranges, the Selwyns consist of 
irregular groups of mountains, often isolated by wide val- 
leys, the summits from six to eight thousand feet above 
sea level. The sculpturing of the granite is bold, rugged, 
and massive, the shattered pinnacled crests forming an 



no THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

imposing sky-line. Timber-line is between three and four 
thousand feet above sea level. 

Looking below over the vast area of burnt ground, 
wild and desolate, I could see the river continually curving 
in its course. Beyond it were two high mountain ranges 
which did not obstruct a view of the sharp peaks and 
broken crests of the Russell Mountains. Toward the 
south-west were the lower ridges and timbered country, 
including the area between the Forks; and directly south 
were valleys and woods, extending several miles to a lofty 
plateau-shaped mountain, its broad dome deceiving the 
eye as to its altitude. Looking up the river, the vision 
was lost in a horizon of mountains and peaks, some misty 
and dim, others glittering in the paths of sunlight where- 
ever it broke through the clouds. The valley above camp 
was characteristic — a broad area surrounded by an am- 
phitheatre of the highest peaks, rising above shaggy crests 
and often above vast precipices. Below the highest 
peak, almost suspended at the foot of a great cliff high 
on the mountain-side, the protruding slope held a beau- 
tiful little lake covered with clear, silvery ice, which re- 
flected the crags and peaks above it. A little farther on, 
along the same range, but still higher up, was another 
lake set in almost perpendicular walls of granite, which 
surrounded it on three sides. The whole country was 
covered with snow and seemed bleak and inhospitable. 

As I looked over the small lake a golden eagle was 
soaring along the cliffs, rising now and then to the crest, 
and, after circling over the peaks, again descended until 
it floated across the valley to the higher summits beyond. 





-jy^ 






?^f.P.'i 



>■ ■ y 



The summits of the Selwyn Rockies, September i6. 




Selwyn Rockies, September i8. 



NORTH FORK TO THE SELWYN ROCKIES iii 

Here and there I heard the whistling chatter of a ground- 
squirrel still defying the snow and cold before retiring 
into its hole to sleep. I wandered about the mountain 
top and along the crest, hopelessly unable to make much 
progress because of my slippery moccasins, without seeing 
tracks or signs of sheep, and at times, when the sun shone 
through the clouds and mist, almost blinded by the glare 
of the fresh snow. I returned to camp at dark, somewhat 
discouraged by the difficulty of ranging over mountains 
covered with light snow which was not deep enough to 
provide a foothold. Besides, many of the slopes were so 
icy that in any case much distance could not be covered 
in the short hours of daylight. 



CHAPTER VII 

SEARCHING FOR SHEEP— 1904 

September 10. — The thermometer again went to six- 
teen degrees during the night, and the next day was 
cloudy, with an occasional patch of blue sky, but there 
was a strong wind all the afternoon. Selous went to the 
mountains on the south; the men to the river to bring 
back some provisions; and I over the north ridges to 
investigate the mountains beyond. I wore shoes of rubber 
with leather uppers, similar to those used by lumbermen 
in the forests of the North. In wet snow the uppers 
would soak through and the feet would soon become wet, 
but though far from good foot-gear for climbing, they 
were not so slippery as the moccasins. 

Soon after going over the ridge I saw bear-tracks 
leading down into the timber, and followed them for some 
distance until convinced they had been made several 
hours before. Then, abandoning the trail, I climbed the 
face of the mountain and proceeded along the slope. The 
tracks of a cow and calf moose soon appeared, showing 
that they had travelled a short distance outside of the 
timber to feed on the willows. Crossing a small draw, I 
climbed to the top of a high smooth mountain, on the 
left of which was the head of a magnificent elevated draw 



SEARCHING FOR SHEEP 113 

extending some two or three miles in level, swampy mead- 
ows dotted with miniature lakes. 

The tracks of a ewe and lamb appeared on the top of 
the mountain and I followed them along the crest. While 
walking I flushed a large flock of ptarmigan already pure 
white. The trail led down a slope so precipitous that I 
could not descend. Several more flocks of ptarmigan 
were seen flying about the rocks near the crests; a few 
ground-squirrels were running about, and an eagle was 
soaring back and forth against the background of snow 
on the range immediately to the east. Below, about a 
hundred yards above timber, I saw the tracks of a band 
of ten or twelve sheep which had come from the north. 
All along the trail they had scattered to browse among 
the willows, and numerous bare spots indicated that 
they had pawed away the snow to get at grass and 
weeds. 

After searching, a difficult descent was found, and ac- 
complishing it, I followed the trail until too late to pro- 
ceed further. Returning to camp, which was reached 
shortly after dark, I heard the cheering news that Selous 
had killed two caribou, one a large bull with fine antlers, 
and had seen a cow near them. But what was still more 
interesting, he had seen a small band of ewe sheep which 
appeared very wild, and among them had observed two 
ewes, as white as those of the Ogilvie Rockies, each having 
two lambs, three of which were white, the fourth as dark 
as Ovis stonei! The men had returned and reported 
having seen a small brown bear — undoubtedly the brown 
phase of the black bear. 



114 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

September ii. — The night was warmer and the next 
day was fairly clear. Selous went with the men to get 
his heads, and I returned to the sheep tracks of the day 
before, about four miles distant from camp. They finally 
crossed the draw into the timber and through my glasses 
I could see the spoor leading up the ridges beyond — too 
far to hunt for them and return to camp that day. I 
then climbed a mountain to the east, and walked through 
the snow-drifts along the crest, among scattering flocks 
of ptarmigan, until noon, when I seated myself to take a 
bit of lunch and also to scan through my field-glasses the 
new country toward the north. Within an hour, when 
looking through the glasses across a small basin to some 
ridges beyond, a white ewe appeared, accompanied by a 
black lamb. By white I mean that its appearance was as 
white as that of the sheep of the Kenai Peninsula, though 
an inspection of its skin would have revealed dark hairs 
scattered through it. The lamb appeared black, but the 
color was nearly that of Ovis stonei. They descended 
with the greatest caution, stopping every few feet to 
look about, and particularly to gaze into the basin 
below. 

A very steep slope in front of me fell to a low ridge, 
and though in plain sight, I carefully slid by degrees to 
the foot of the slope, stopping motionless every time the 
ewe looked up, for she had reached the basin and while 
browsing among the willows, kept watching above as 
well as in other directions. Proceeding along the ridge 
to the edge of the basin I hid behind a willow bush about 
five hundred feet above the ewe, and watched them for a 



SEARCHING FOR SHEEP 115 

long time. They soon fed toward me and came within 
a hundred yards, when I carefully noted the colors. 
I have never ceased regretting that I did not kill and 
preserve them for science. In half an hour, stones were 
heard falling from the slope above and two more ewes 
appeared, descending, both of a whitish appearance like 
the darker ones near Coal Creek. All continued to 
browse on willows and scratch away the snow to reach 
feed on the ground. Among the willows and bare 
patches of ground, their color blended so perfectly with 
their surroundings, that often, after glancing away from 
them for a moment, it was difficult to see them again. 
After awhile they began to return slowly up the slope, 
continuing to feed until finally I noticed the two single 
ewes standing motionless for a long time, directing a 
steady gaze to the north. 

Looking in that direction, I saw, about half a mile 
distant, a cow moose and her calf, feeding among the wil- 
lows on a ridge the other side of a small draw; they were 
gradually advancing in my direction. There in the snow 
fields, under towering peaks and rugged mountains, 
while sheep were feeding close by on the broken slopes, 
I had my first sight of moose above timber-line in the 
northern wilderness. The cow, between pauses to browse 
on willows, continued walking without looking up or show- 
ing the least suspicion of enemies, presenting a significant 
contrast to the alert, watchful sheep. When the moose 
had passed out of sight near the foot of the ridge, I began 
to walk slowly toward that part of the slope where they 
were apt to ascend. When I was within one hundred 



ii6 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

feet of the edge, they appeared, and, instantly seeing me, 
stopped to gaze at me. 

My kodak was ready, and after a snapshot was taken 
I began slowly to approach them. The wind was blow- 
ing at right angles and evidently carried my scent past 
them. As I came to within forty or fifty feet, the cow 
appeared to resent my nearer approach, inclined her ears 
back, made a slight motion of the lips, and stood in such 
an attitude of warning that I thought she might possibly 
charge me. The calf, assuming an attitude of readiness 
for instant flight, was standing nearer the edge of the 
slope, its head turned away from me. After taking a 
nearer snapshot, I determined to walk slowly in a circle 
for the purpose of testing the effect of coming in the wind, 
which would give them my scent. Gradually I circled 
around to the right, and suddenly, as a breeze caught 
me in the right position, the cow jumped as if receiving 
an electric shock, and, followed by the calf, went trotting 
down the slope, to disappear in the timber below. Never 
was the comparative effect of sight and scent better tested 
on a cow moose, and in a locality which human beings 
seldom frequent. 

While retracing my steps, I noticed that the sheep 
were not in sight, but when climbing the mountain I had 
descended, the ewe and black lamb suddenly appeared 
on the crest above, glanced down at me for a moment and 
then ran off. It was very cold and blowing hard before 
I reached camp, some time after dark, to learn that Selous 
had followed tracks of both sheep and caribou without 
seeing the animals. His sympathy was comforting in our 




"The cow appeared to resent my nearer approach," September ii. 



SEARCHING FOR SHEEP 117 

common annoyance because of the snow, which, though 
it gUstened in the sun and spread a sparkUng white man- 
tle over the country, adding beauty to the landscape, made 
the mountain hunting most difficult and discouraging. 

September 12. — Again I was in quest of rams, and 
started early for the mountains at the head of the draw. 
A heavy snow blizzard soon developed and continued at 
intervals all day. For three miles I tramped through the 
timber, then to the head, above which, in all directions, 
numerous marmots were whistling among the broken 
rocks. I climbed on the crest and after a brief glimpse 
of the top, the snow beat down so hard that I could see 
but a few yards, and was obliged to return, reaching camp 
at dark. I had seen old bear tracks in the timber, and 
had noticed old moose tracks everywhere on the moun- 
tain slopes as high as the willows grew, which in some 
places on the south exposures was nearly to the crest. 
Selous had occupied his day by following for several 
hours the tracks of a bull moose and two cows. The 
tracks had led in a circle to his own trail made in the 
morning. As the moose crossed it, he read on the snow 
that they had broken into a trot, consequently he knew it 
was useless to continue following. 

September 13. — It rained and stormed all night and was 
warmer the next morning. I climbed the ridges back of 
camp, proceeded along the mountain slope, crossed the 
meadows and followed a well-worn sheep-trail to the top 
of the ridges beyond. Following the ridge against a 
strong wind, while it continued to snow and rain alter- 
nately, I found a bull moose's trail made the night before 



ii8 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

and leading to the timber on the other side. Continuing, 
I reached the next mountain, and ascended its peak after 
working my way upward among boulders and coarse, 
broken rock, the spaces between them filled with snow 
which caused many falls and bruises. Later, the snow 
ceased and the clouds began to rise so that I could look 
over on the slopes of a high, massive mountain still far- 
ther to the west, and separated from me by a deep valley. 
There, well up near the crest, I saw through my field- 
glasses, nine sheep, apparently ewes and lambs. The 
rain again began to fall, so, returning along the ridge and 
reaching the foot at dark, I struggled for three miles 
back to camp. Ptarmigan were very abundant on the 
mountains south of the meadows, and a flock of migrat- 
ing robins had passed over me. 

Selous had been out all day without seeing any game, 
and since we had exhausted the country within available 
walking distance from camp, we decided to move the 
next day near the meadows I had crossed In the morn- 
ing. Rain fell all night and still more all the next day. 
We endured it, sitting under the shelter. It grew colder 
the next night and the following day broke clear. 

September 15. — ^We made up our packs, climbed the 
ridge, and proceeded along the mountain-slope to the 
meadows. After crossing them, a camping site was 
found a hundred yards up a slope, in the timber near 
the sheep-trail which I had followed two days before. 
It rained at intervals as we were "packing" over to the 
new camping place, and it was snowing as we made it, 
but the snow soon ceased falling. 



SEARCHING FOR SHEEP 119 

Selous went to make a reconnoissance of the ridges 
opposite the north end of the meadows, while I again took 
to the sheep-trail, intending to go over to the big mountain 
where I had seen sheep two days before. Three well- 
defined sheep-trails crossed the meadows and passed up 
through the timber on both sides of the draw. In the 
timber and for a considerable distance above, was a 
dense growth of dwarf birch mixed with willow and 
alder. The fact that these trails, seldom used by the 
sheep, were so well beaten that all the underbrush had 
been carefully cleaned from them, is evidence of their 
having been trodden for numerous generations. The 
dense growth of underbrush made walking through the 
timber most difficult and tiresome when off the sheep- 
trails. 

Passing north along the ridge and ascending the next 
mountain, I saw on top of a high ridge to the north-west 
two small lakes surrounded by narrow meadows, which 
from my position seemed almost suspended in the air. 
Through my field-glasses, a cow moose followed by two 
calves was seen feeding on the shore. I watched them 
for awhile as they browsed on the willows, when sud- 
denly a mist was blown on the mountains, rain began to 
fall, and it became so dark that I could see only a few 
feet below. The weather had again thwarted me, so 
turning back in mist, rain, and snow, I descended through 
the woods in the dark, fighting every step against the 
thick growth of spruce and underbrush, until camp was 
finally reached. Selous had seen a band of nine ewes on 
the mountain which I had approached, but not wishing 



I20 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

to disturb my ground he had tramped all the afternoon 
without seeing anything more. 

September 1 6. — It snowed about half an hour early 
the next morning as I was heading through the meadows 
directly for the north mountain, but all the rest of the 
day a strong wind blew from the north. Just before I 
arrived at the foot, I saw a single ewe and lamb, both 
white in appearance, following a sheep-trail high on the 
slope. This trail was so well beaten that it was clearly 
defined in the broken rock and visible at a long distance. 
They soon passed out of sight around the slope, and with 
very slow progress, zigzagging up through snow and 
over slippery rock, I gained the top of the mountain — a 
great dome-shaped snow-field glittering in the sun and 
almost blinding me. 

This mountain was the first one rising above the 
valley of the river where it bends to an easterly course — 
and a new landscape stretched before me. For the first 
time there was an unobstructed view to the north. Below, 
bordering the river, was the same desolate flat country 
all covered with timber, and with lakes and meadow 
glades scattered about, some of them high on the slopes 
of the ridges; while rising from the dark-timbered area, 
as far as the eye could reach, extending beyond the 
Stewart River on the north, and toward the Mackenzie 
divide on the east, were parallel chains of majestic, snow- 
covered mountains — a vast, austere wilderness, all the 
mighty summits shining under the dazzling rays of the 
sun. These were the Selwyn Rockies. 

Chilled by the strong, cold wind, I went along the 



SEARCHING FOR SHEEP 121 

crest, constantly pausing to scan the steep slopes below, 
now advancing to the edge of a vast precipice, now round- 
ing a ledge to seek a view of places where sheep might 
remain sheltered from the wind. There was not a sound 
but that from the gusts of wind whirling the snow in clouds 
about me, and the occasional croaks of ravens flying by. 
Several large flocks of ptarmigan passed close to the crest, 
and when flying across the sun their wings reflected an 
exquisite tint of pink in contrast with the white plumage 
of their bodies. 

After traversing the crest to the north end, I started 
to descend the steep, dangerous slope in order to return 
along its foot where I would be less exposed to the piercing 
wind. When half way down I seated myself to take a 
look through my field-glasses, and saw seven ewes and 
lambs lying down a hundred yards above the timber 
directly below me. They were all alertly watching, and 
one ewe seemed to be looking directly at me. Quickly 
sliding into a hollow which led down the slope, I worked 
my way to a ledge about three hundred yards above 
them, and, creeping to the edge, looked over. They were 
still lying down, all looking up the mountain except one, 
which kept watching below. They had not seen me, 
and were peacefully resting, but keeping their heads 
erect in alert, nervous attitudes. My disappointment at 
not finding rams on such a high, rough mountain was 
keen, and fearing that other sheep from this district 
might not be obtained, I determined to kill two of them. 
Taking a seat at the edge of the ledge for the purpose of 
studying a method of descent, I found that it was impos- 



122 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

sible without coming in plain sight of the sheep, and in 
the hope that they might feed upward toward me was 
obHged to wait patiently until they should rise. It would 
have been trying to the patience to have waited, as I did 
for three hours on that bleak slope, had not the wilder- 
ness given up to my eyes one of those rare sights which 
ever after haunts the memory. 

Directly below the vast timbered area, cut with caiions 
and dotted with small lakes, extended in rolling ridges to, 
and beyond, the river. The deep valley of Husky Dog 
Creek was plainly in view, winding upward to a large 
lake a thousand feet above the river's dancing riffles 
which, as the current raced over its stony bottom, 
shimmered in the sunlight. On the north, not far from 
Husky Dog Creek, a large yellow meadow-land con- 
taining a small lake made a bright patch in the dark 
timber. A look through my field-glasses revealed a large 
bulky animal walking across it. The animal, now stand- 
ing still, now feeding, finally remained motionless in the 
centre for an hour, and then continued to feed again, still 
keeping in sight in the meadow-land. It was a big, 
solitary bull moose, its horns not distinguishable enough 
in the distance to show their size. 

Shortly after seeing him, when looking over the coun- 
try on the other side of a deep canon below me, I saw 
another small glade containing a tiny lake, its ice spark- 
ling in the sun — a mysterious little opening buried in the 
wild spruce forest. There I beheld another large bull 
moose, his huge antlers shining apparently pure white 
under the sun, and near him a cow and a calf. Silently, 



SEARCHING FOR SHEEP 123 

alone, unseen, while the wonderful panorama of landscape 
was spread out before me, I watched that picture of wild 
life. I was unsuspected by all living creatures except the 
ravens which occasionally circled above me uttering their 
hoarse croaks. 

For three hours, as I shivered and kept low behind a 
large rock, the sheep and the moose remained in sight. 
The bull with the cow seemed to feed about the meadow, 
its head close to the ground as if cropping the grass off 
the small hummocks; while the cow, quite indifferent to 
him, kept browsing on the willows along the edge of the 
woods, its calf sometimes near, at other times disappearing 
altogether in the spruces. After an hour, the bull lay 
down in the centre of the meadow near the lake, while the 
cow continued feeding. The bull had evidently seques- 
tered the cow for awhile in that hidden spot, to enjoy his 
short family life — not always, perhaps, so easily obtained. 
It would not have been a difficult matter to stalk with a 
chance of success, for I could lay out a good course against 
the wind to a knoll above and near the meadow which 
was little more than half a mile distant from me. But 
having resolved not to go for moose until I had secured 
sufficient specimens of sheep, I did not want to lose an 
opportunity when sheep were practically within shot 
below m.e. 

Finally, the ewes rose and began feeding along the 
slope in a direction away from me. There was no alter- 
native, and I put up the three-hundred-yard sight. At 
the first shot a ewe fell dead, and another at the third — 
both struck in the neck. The others dashed diagonally 



124 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

up the slope, not impeded in the least by the ice, snow, 
and slippery rocks. 

Immediately after firing, I looked through my field- 
glasses at the nearer bull moose. He had evidently heard 
the shot, for he was standing and looking up the mountain 
in my direction, in which attitude he remained until I 
hurried down the slope to a point where the glade was 
lost to view. All the ewes, which I had examined care- 
fully through my field-glasses, were of the same color as 
the darker ones killed on Coal Creek. I gralloched both 
and skinned the back of one and relieved it of its saddles, 
which I shouldered as I began the tramp of five miles 
across the rough country back to camp. It was my in- 
tention to come back and get the skins and skulls. Before 
dark I had struggled across the side of the mountain, and 
during the last hour stumbled in the darkness through 
bog, hummocks, and brush, until I thought I was oppo- 
site camp and went up in the timber. Not finding it, a 
shout brought back a welcome response from Selous. I 
had passed the spot by a hundred yards. The men had 
gone down to the river, where they were passing the night, 
and were to return the next day with more provisions. 
Some tenderloin mutton was soon cooking over the fire, 
and Selous related his experience of the day, which had 
resulted in a long, hard tramp without seeing anything 
but caribou tracks. 



CHAPTER VIII 

LOOKING FOR RAMS— 1904 

September ij. — The next day I hunted the ridges and 
mountains behind camp, and, after a careful search, was 
obhged to return without having seen anything except 
some new sheep tracks which indicated the presence of 
a band somewhere in that locahty, and warned me that 
the country had better be avoided for a day or two. 
The ground-squirrels had all retired for the winter, but 
red squirrels were abundant in the woods. Several large 
flocks of ravens were seen; possibly they were migrating 
to another locality. Selous had climbed over the moun- 
tains on the north-east and found a magnificent draw at 
the head of Clearwater Creek. There he had killed a 
bull moose with very small horns, although they appeared 
large when he shot it. The moon was nearly full and 
judging by the new tracks of bulls, then occurring every- 
where even on the tops of the ridges, the rut was in full 
swing and the bulls were travelling widely. 

September 18. — The temperature was falling fast when 
we went to sleep, and in the morning the thermometer 
recorded six degrees above zero. Selous took Louis to 
accompany him to the Clearwater draw, and I started to 
climb the mountain in front of camp. It was clear all 
day and a cold wind swept the snow in great clouds about 
the crests. Passing through the timber, I saw the fresh 

^25 



126 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

trail of a grizzly bear going north along the foot of the 
slope. I began to ascend, but it became steeper and 
steeper, and as it had been so cold the night before, an 
inch of snow which covered it was very dry and slippery, 
and parts of the slope where it had blown away were 
almost ice. The ascent became more difficult and I had 
to stretch out my hands and fairly crawl until reaching 
a point where I could not retrace my steps without slip- 
ping. It was so precipitous that it was very dangerous to 
continue. I had to use the butt of my rifle as a staff and 
jam it into the frozen ground at each step until, to my 
relief, the crest was gained. I crossed the rolling fields 
of snow extending to the main range beyond, and climb- 
ing a mountain proceeded along the crest, scanning the 
country on the other side. No sheep were seen, nor any 
tracks, and I descended, took up the bear's trail, and 
followed it until necessary to turn back if camp was to be 
reached by dark. I had observed through my field- 
glasses a band of sheep on the mountains north-east of 
camp and thought that I could distinguish two dark 
rams. I noticed that the night before a wolverine had 
followed the back track of Selous's trail to a point op- 
posite camp, where it had crossed the meadows and en- 
tered the woods some distance away from the shelter. 
After supper, Coghlan and I were sitting about the 
fire, having concluded that Selous and Louis were passing 
the night near the Clearwater draw, when we heard 
them coming up through the woods. As Selous ap- 
proached the fire, there was an elasticity in his step that 
did not signify an arduous day's tramp without success, 



LOOKING FOR RAMS 127 

and it was pleasant to learn that he had killed two moose. 
One had small horns, the other a magnificent pair, sixty- 
seven inches in spread, with very large burrs and broad 
blades, one of which was slightly deformed. It was alto- 
gether the wildest and most impressive moose-head that I 
have ever seen. It alone made his long trip from Eng- 
land to those northern wilds a success, and none but 
those who have suffered discomfort and discouragement 
of continuous bad weather and tiresome and difficult 
tramping over rough country can appreciate how richly 
his hard, persistent work had deserved this reward. 

September 19. — That night was still colder, and in the 
morning the thermometer recorded one above zero, but 
the day was calm, without a cloud in the sky, and with a 
light breeze blowing. I ascended the sheep-trail, hoping 
to find the band of sheep known to be somewhere on the 
range behind camp. After reaching the top, a flock of 
robins, the last observed, went by; a wolverine's tracks 
wandered all over the ridge; and a little further along, 
the tracks of a black bear and cub crossed over to the 
timber on the west. 

Looking through my field-glasses at the mountain 
toward the north, I saw thirteen sheep descending in 
single file on a sheep-trail, all coming in my direction. 
Quickly advancing several hundred yards, as they disap- 
peared in a saddle between the uneven slopes, I stretched 
flat on my stomach in the trail, and thus concealed by the 
formation of the surface, waited. After awhile they 
came in sight, still in the trail and not more than a quarter 
of a mile away. Two of them were dark, almost like Ovis 



128 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

stoneiy two slightly lighter; the remaining nine were white, 
like the sheep of the Ogilvie Rockies. Two of the 
darker ones were three-year-old rams. Lightly and 
quickly they stepped along, now running a few jumps, 
now separating in disorder, and after standing rigidly to 
scrutinize the surrounding country, they again advanced 
in single file. Before I could realize it, they were within 
a hundred yards, on a level with me. Aiming at a ram, 
my rifle misfired twice, but the third pull of the trigger 
sent a bullet which killed him. A second shot killed the 
other ram, and the third, a dark ewe, as the band was 
running in a circle. Twice I fired at the remaining dark 
ewe and missed, but at the next shot the bullet struck her 
and she began to totter in such a way that I knew the 
wound was serious. The band stopped for a moment 
and began to walk toward the other side of the ridge 
while I was taking my kodak from my riicksack. The 
wounded one staggered along and I followed quickly. 
The band stopped to look at me, and being near I took 
several photographs of it. All the time while I was fol- 
lowing, a breeze blew directly from me to them, and my 
scent did not frighten them. Soon they walked away, 
and finally broke into a run as they circled around the 
top and disappeared. It was about noon. 

Walking ahead I saw the wounded ewe fifty yards 
below, lying down on the slope, and a final shot killed it. 
Here at last was success. Although the rams were small, 
I had secured a fine series of the sheep of this district, and 
that was the main object of my trip. Under a blue sky, in 
the cold, crisp air, warmed by the shining sun, I worked 




fn 



LOOKING FOR RAMS 129 

until dark to take the skins off. I then put two of the 
heads in my rucksack, threw the four skins over my shoul- 
ders, and slowly staggered down the slope and through the 
woods, which were then dimly lighted by moonlight. 

Alas for the remainder of that band! Without sus- 
picion of danger they had circled around and descended 
by the same trail on which I had come up in the morn- 
ing. Selous, who had remained in camp all day to pre- 
pare his moose scalp, had gone for a moment to the water 
hole back of the shelter, when he saw them standing 
near on the trail. Not knowing that I had killed any 
sheep, and in order that we might not miss the chance 
to get mutton so close to camp, he permitted Louis to 
take the rifle and kill two. 

I had not even paused to eat lunch, and after refresh- 
ing myself with tea and food, we sat about the crackling 
fire, which radiated its genial warmth through the freezing 
dry air. After going under my sleeping robe, for a long 
time I remained awake, inspired by the infinite glory of 
a wonderful aurora flashing in an arc from mountain 
to mountain. The woods, the snowy meadows, and the 
rugged mountains before us were bathed in the soft 
moonlight under that magnificent, brilliantly lighted circle 
of flashing light. 

September 20. — In the morning the thermometer re- 
corded three degrees below zero, and just after waking, 
as I was looking along the bleak crest of the mountain 
opposite, my eye caught a large, dark object on the sky- 
line. Quickly taking my field-glasses, a sight was re- 
vealed that will never be forgotten. A large bull moose, 



130 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

the monarch of the vast northern forest, stood motionless 
on the crest, gazing at the country below. His antlers 
appeared large and white under the sunlight, as the out- 
line of his huge form stood out boldly against the back- 
ground of cliffs and snowy peaks behind. What a pleas- 
ure it was to have Selous there to enjoy with me that 
wonderful picture. The moose soon turned back out of 
sight, and, after a bite of breakfast, I went well toward 
the lower end of the meadows to a point where the wind 
was favorable, and gradually climbed to the crest, hoping 
that he might still remain above the timber. His trail 
indicated that he had descended to a strip of forest ex- 
tending up a small draw, and emerging on the other side 
he had continued to the main area of woods beyond. 
For a long distance the blood sprinkled on the snow 
along his trail revealed the romance of the annual rut- 
rivalry and strife. His battle must have been unsuccess- 
fully fought some distance away, for there were no other 
tracks near. I followed the trail for an hour to a point 
where the woods were dense and filled with brush, and 
then concluded to return to camp. Selous and Louis had 
gone over to the Clearwater draw, the former intending 
to pass the night, and Coghlan had gone down in the tim- 
ber to get some birch bark for the making of a horn to 
call moose. The remainder of the morning and a good 
part of the afternoon were spent in preparing the sheep 
skins until Coghlan returned, when a horn was quickly 
made. I then went to the north end of the meadows 
and gave several calls and waited until dark, but there 
was no response and I returned to camp. 



LOOKING FOR RAMS 131 

September 21. — Louis had returned with the big moose 
head and the next morning both he and Coghlan, bring- 
ing all the trophies they could carry, started for the river. 
It was still below zero and another perfect day. Going 
to the north end of the meadows I climbed to the saddle 
between the two mountains, observing that several moose 
had recently travelled over it, and descended to the 
timber on the other side. Shortly I came upon the tracks 
of a large grizzly and followed them along the slope of 
the north mountain, until the trail went into the timber. 
Climbing high and circling about, I examined the west 
face of the mountain for sheep, but observed no signs. 
Descending, I went through the timber to the two lakes 
where, on September 15th, the cow moose had been seen 
with two calves. I reached them late in the afternoon. 
Fresh moose tracks were all about, and, excited by my 
presence, the jays and red squirrels made so much noise 
that it seemed almost like a natural warning to any moose 
that might be near. 

The lakes were surrounded with timber; a light wind 
was blowing, and it was impossible to find a good place 
to call. I went up on the slope of a bare hill near one 
of the lakes and gave a call. Immediately to the right, 
on the other side of the lake, sounded the grunt of a bull, 
and, in a moment, I heard another bull coming from the 
left. In front of me was a clear space by the lake, and 
both bulls were moving about in the timber not more 
than two hundred yards away, but they would not come 
out. I waited in silence. Soon the grunting of one 
continued still more to the right and I knew he was 



132 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

circling. The other had ceased for some time when I 
heard him around the hill behind me to the left. After 
awhile both ceased, and I knew that they had received 
my wind. 

It was then dark at six, and after passing through a 
fringe of timber, I slowly and carefully climbed the steep 
slope of the mountain in the light of a brilliant full moon. 
Reaching the top, I walked for three miles through the 
snow-fields on the edge of the crest. Below were white 
meadows dotted with frozen ponds and little lakes, their 
ice sheets dimly reflecting the bold, rugged mountains^ 
which appeared sombre white above the deep shadovv^s 
on the slopes, while the lofty outlines of the sharp peaks 
behind stood out like huge sentinels in the pale, clear 
sky. All the snow-fields sparkled golden under the mel- 
low rays, while the dark timber area below on the other 
side, filled with glittering lakes, made a mysterious con- 
trast to the peaks across the river — peaks softly glowing 
and almost yellow in the strange effect of distant moon- 
light. There was not a sound to break the weird, gentle 
beauty of the scene. It was a crowning effect of that 
stern, sublime wilderness, then so calm and peaceful, 
overspread by the radiance of the moon. I walked 
slowly, and descended on the sheep-trail to camp, where 
the fire was breathing its sparks up Into the cold, clear 
air. Selous had not seen a moose, but at the last moment 
had observed a small band of ewes on the mountains near 
Clearwater draw and had killed an old ewe of the whitest 
color of the sheep in that locality. With great generosity 
he later gave the skin and skull to the Biological Survey, 



LOOKING FOR RAMS 133 

where It could be compared with their numerous speci- 
mens. 

September 22. — Our men had reported ice running in 
the river. This made an immediate departure necessary, 
since continued cold might increase it to such an extent 
that it would block and freeze, thus closing navigation. 
The next day — the last one in camp — was slightly warmer. 
Selous remained there all day. We had hunted all the 
available ranges except a small one on the extreme north- 
east side of the draw, and, after tramping to its foot, I 
began to climb. The tracks of a ewe and lamb passed 
along the crest, and several fresh moose-trails crossed it. 
I went to the north end where it almost overhung the 
river. There I took some photographs and placed my 
compass on a rock for the purpose of studying the topog- 
raphy of the river. When I started back I forgot it, and 
I hope it is still there, pointing thirty-five degrees east of 
north toward the most beautiful and impressive range of 
white-capped domes, peaks, and crests, in all that locality. 

Descending to the draw, I called for moose, but there 
was no response and I returned, walking through woods 
and meadows by moonlight. That night tramp was made 
sadly and regretfully, knowing it was my last in those 
high mountains, endeared to me in spite of rain, storms, 
snow, and disappointments. Love of the wilderness per- 
sists and drowns all feelings resulting from bad luck. 
Large rams had not been found. At that time they 
were feeding on the ranges nearer the South Fork, as I 
learned the following year from one who had hunted 
there and found the band. 



134 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

The men had again been down to the river with an- 
other load. The thermometer went up during the night 
to ten degrees above, as we slept for the last time in that 
little shelter-camp, nestled in the woods and facing the 
broad meadows and bold ranges beyond. 

September 23. — The next morning our packs were 
made up, and we staggered down the steep side of a 
ridge to the flats below and crossed directly to the river, 
reaching it by the middle of the afternoon. While 
descending, we had seen signs of black bears, where they 
had been feeding on dwarf juniper berries. After lunch, 
the men went three miles down river to the cache for the 
purpose of bringing up a canoe, and I went about two 
miles up river and called for awhile, but no moose ap- 
peared. Returning, I found Selous cooking at the fire, 
and shortly after our men returned, poling the canoe. 
After all our material was moved into a heavy spruce 
wood nearby, a large fire was started, the light of which 
danced about the trees and caused the red squirrels to 
chatter. 

September 24. — By morning the thermometer had 
gone up to thirty-two degrees. It was raining and, except 
for a few moments in the afternoon, continued to rain all 
day. I started down river, intending to go to two fairly 
large lakes some distance below the cache, to call for 
moose. Soon I reached a beautiful beaver dam five feet 
high, which lifted the waters of a small stream into a lake 
of several acres, surrounded by spruce woods. Shortly 
after crossing it, I came to a trapper's cabin, made by 
Bob Riddell, who intended to trap for martens in that 



LOOKING FOR RAMS 135 

locality the coming winter. Trappers had been all along 
the lower MacMillan River for two years and besides 
Riddell, there was one still farther up at Cache Creek. 
Riddell's main cabin was at Husky Dog Creek, and he 
had then gone over on the South Fork to hunt with Mr. 
Cameron and the others. 

Proceeding along his blazed trail I struck off across 
the flats and reached the lake about five in the afternoon. 
Scarcely any fresh moose tracks were observed in the 
lower country, and none about the lakes. I called until 
dark and then went directly to the river, striking it, unfor- 
tunately, three miles below the cache. There was a 
driving rain and it was a discouraging tramp through the 
dark woods, pushing my way through alders, swamps, 
and tangled underbrush. The smouldering camp-fire was 
a welcome sight, and after a change of clothing and 
some needed food, I slept while the rain dripped through 
the shelter. 



CHAPTER IX 

DOWN THE NORTH FORK. PLATEAU MOUNTAIN. 

1904 

September 25. — As it required some time to gather all 
our effects and load the canoes, we did not start until 
2.30 in the afternoon. It was then warm and clear. 
The river had fallen since we had come up ; many of the 
riffles were doubtful of passage, and the canoes, as they 
were swept along in the current, kept scraping the bottom. 
But all the hard work of towing them up was more than 
compensated for by the pleasure of going down. Assisted 
by the paddles, guiding the canoes through dancing 
riffles, we went swiftly careering through the wild tim- 
bered valleys, the mountain panorama unfolding itself 
at every curve. Shortly before dark we reached the 
place where we had camped September third, and imme- 
diately after landing I took the birch horn and, going 
about three hundred yards from the bank, gave a few 
calls. I was in a swampy thicket of willows, alders, and 
dwarf birch, sparingly dotted with spruces and broken by 
open spaces of a few square yards. In a short time, after 
hearing the chopping and the whistling and talking of 
the men, while dense clouds of smoke from the newly 
made fire were floating down the valley, I concluded that 

no moose would dare to approach within a mile of the 

136 



PLATEAU MOUNTAIN 137 

place, and returned to camp. Louis was on the bank 
repairing Selous' canoe — an old one which had kept leak- 
ing all the afternoon — when he ran to the shelter, saying 
that he heard a bull moose approaching. Taking a horn 
and beckoning to me to follow, he quickly walked along 
the bar, with Selous and myself trailing close behind him. 
We stepped into the thick brush and paused to listen. 
Yes, the well-known grunt of a bull moose was clearly 
audible not more than three or four hundred yards away, 
and sounding an approach in our direction. We crept 
forward as silently as possible, stopping as the bull, paus- 
ing to listen, ceased grunting, and going forward again 
when he resumed. 

Intercepting the line of the bull's approach, and reach- 
ing a spot where the brush ahead was less dense, we 
stooped close behind a log, and Louis, after giving a low 
call, rubbed the horn up and down on the willow brush, 
thus producing a noise similar to that made by a moose 
rubbing his horns. Directly toward us came the eager 
grunting, ceasing now and then as the bull stopped to 
listen, until at last it sounded very close. Not a stick 
cracked, nor was there the slightest noise from horns 
striking the trees and brush, or from footsteps. It was 
almost dark, and except for some faint light in the small 
open space in front, the thicket appeared perfectly black. 
How was it possible for that large, bulky animal to con- 
tinue his mysterious approach so swiftly and silently on 
swampy ground, through a dense thicket of tangled 
brush and fallen logs, without making an audible sound 
except that of grunting ? As it sounded almost upon us, 



138 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

we saw a large bull suddenly appear, looming out of the 
darkness like a giant spectre, not more than seventy-five 
feet away, his antlers looking big, broad, and very white 
against the dark background. With rifle pointed, I rose 
and could just see the ivory sight which was held in a 
line with the centre of the bull's chest when I pulled the 
trigger. Click! A miss-fire, and almost simultaneously 
Selous' smothered expression of disappointment! The 
bull had stopped as I rose, and when the trigger fell, he 
jumped to one side and disappeared in the brush. I 
sent three shots after him, but could only guess the direc- 
tion as he was not In sight. After the first jump there was 
a crashing In the willows — and then not another sound 
was heard. The grunting ceased; he had glided off 
more mysteriously and silently than he had come. Thus 
was lost my only opportunity to get a bull moose, and 
one with horns which seemed larger, perhaps, than they 
really were, though they still grow in the memory-image 
of that short glimpse. Later, I learned that the caps in 
some of my cartridges, then four years old, had deterio- 
rated and were apt, especially in cold weather, to miss 
fire. 

The night was clear and fairly cold, the thermometer 
registering twenty-three degrees above zero, and we soon 
went to sleep. I was suddenly aroused by a trembling 
hand on my shoulder as Coghlan whispered that a moose 
had crossed the river and was heading directly toward the 
camp. Taking my rifle, with nothing on but under- 
clothes, I quickly followed Louis through the woods as 
Selous had done on the night of September 3d. We 



PLATEAU MOUNTAIN 139 

reached the bank just after the moose had recrossed to 
the other side and gone in the woods. Louis tried to 
coax the bull in sight with the horn, but in vain. It 
appeared that about an hour and a half before that time, 
when Selous and I were sleeping, Louis had stepped out 
to the river bank and had given a few calls for amuse- 
ment before he retired. The bull had evidently heard 
the sound from a long distance and had gradually ap- 
proached and crossed the river. His tracks on the bar, 
which were seen the next morning, showed that he had 
come to within fifty feet of our camp. 

September 26. — Before daylight I went out and called 
again, but without result. We did not start until an 
hour before noon, and reached the Forks early in the 
afternoon. I had carefully deducted all time for stops, 
and found that the actual time consumed in running 
down river from the cache to the Forks was six hours. 
It had required six days with interruptions to drag the 
canoes up the same distance. Not long before arriving 
at the Forks, we met Jack Barr and Crosby, trappers who 
had passed the preceding winter trapping in that locality. 
They were on their way to Barr Creek with the purpose 
of bringing provisions to their cabin. They had spent 
some time with Rungius and Osgood in the Russell 
Mountains, where they had a 'Mine'' cabin. Both were 
fine types of the woodsmen who trap in the northern 
country, and though efficient in killing moose for a supply 
of meat they were not much interested in game. They 
had trapped at the foot of the mountains which we had 
hunted, but did not even know that sheep lived on them; 



140 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

in fact, they had told Rungius and Osgood that we would 
not find sheep. 

Mr. Cameron and the others who had gone up the 
South Fork had returned a few days before and left a 
note, informing us that they had found caribou in abun- 
dance and killed ten good bulls; two bears, a lynx, and 
three small sheep — the only ones seen. Judge Dugas had 
killed a small moose shortly after starting up the South 
Fork. Later, we learned that he had also killed a bull 
caribou farther down on the bank of the MacMillan River. 

We went on down to Russell Creek, where a note from 
Rungius and Osgood advised us that they had gone 
down river. We kept on until later when a slough was 
entered and camp was made in a pouring rain. Selous 
had remained behind with Louis to call, and I went up 
to the end of the slough and called until dark without 
result. I was greatly interested to see a beaver swim- 
ming near me with a large stick held by one end in 
its mouth. Reaching its house, the stick was skilfully 
worked into it under the water. All along we had seen 
beavers, sometimes swimming, sometimes sitting on logs, 
and twice I saw them sliding down the bank into the 
water. 

Just after dark when Selous, who had failed to lure a 
bull, had returned, Dougherty, one of the men who had 
been on the Emma Nott and had landed near this place, 
came into camp and said that he and Horn had their 
camp half a mile down river. During the time they had 
been there, a small bull moose and two cows had been 
killed, but very few had been seen. They could not hunt 



PLATEAU MOUNTAIN 141 

far from the river because they had to kill game near 
enough to bring it to a raft which they had constructed for 
the purpose of holding the meat and floating it to Dawson. 

September 27. — Early in the morning, while it still 
continued to rain, I went out to call before breakfast, 
but unsuccessfully. The rain continued all day. After 
the swift current of the North Fork, that of the main 
river seemed very tame, but to float with it was fascinating 
just the same. The canoes glided along easily, as we 
continually watched ahead eagerly, anticipating a sight of 
game when rounding the curves, each of which brought 
a new stretch of the river into view. In the middle of the 
afternoon, Coghlan saw a calf moose trotting on a bar 
and called our attention to it. I landed shortly after it 
went into the woods, and going around in a circle to get a 
favorable wind, advanced in its direction. Selous entered 
the woods a short distance below. Before going far I 
heard sticks cracking and sounds that indicated the 
mother and calf were trotting away, hence I returned to 
the canoe and proceeded down river. Louis, who was 
alone, went into the woods, as he told me afterwards, and 
saw the bull running about the cow and playing with 
her, while the calf stood at one side. Selous was in an- 
other direction, and the animals had run off^ before he 
returned. Had I known better the habits of the moose 
at that season, the bull might have been killed. 

Shortly after, as we were gliding around a sharp curve, 
looking back, I saw a black bear emerge from the alders 
and walk toward the bank of the river. The boat was 
quickly turned toward shore, but it was too late, the strong 



142 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

current having swept us around the curve into an un- 
favorable wind, and before I could step out of the canoe, 
the bear threw up its head, sniffed once or twice, then 
turned and ran into the woods. 

About dark, I arrived at an abandoned trapper's cabin 
on the river bank opposite Plateau Mountain, and found 
Rungius and Osgood installed in it. Selous came soon 
after, and that evening, while the rain beat down outside, 
there was a delightful reunion. They had hunted in the 
Russell Mountains, and Rungius had killed a bull moose 
with fine antlers, two cow caribou, a small female grizzly, 
a black bear, and a wolverine. The last three had been 
shot while feeding on the carcasses of his moose and cari- 
bou. Osgood had devoted his time mostly to trapping 
small mammals (which were very scarce) and in trying to 
find sheep. They had not found sheep, and very few of 
their tracks had been seen in the Russell Mountains. 
Osgood had killed both a bull and a cow moose near the 
bank of the river a short distance above that cabin. 
While floating down the river, they had seen four bears, 
and the day before two had appeared on the bar opposite 
the cabin, but had run off in the woods before Osgood 
could get a shot. Both had hunted on Plateau Mountain, 
where Rungius had killed an old bull caribou with fine 
horns, and Osgood a smaller bull. Since they thought 
that other caribou were about there, Selous and I decided 
to go up and hunt for them. 

September 28. — It rained so hard the next day that all 
of us stayed about the cabin in the morning. In the after- 
noon I crossed the river in a canoe and tramped about the 



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Carl Rungius and his big moose. 



PLATEAU MOUNTAIN 143 

timbered ridges. Nothing but old moose tracks were 
seen; and a few grouse, hawks, and rabbits. The latter 
were then beginning to turn white. The bird migration 
had mostly passed. 

September 29. — We passed another congenial evening 
In the cabin, and the following morning it was colder and 
raining, while snow was falling on the mountains above. 
My recording thermometer had been broken the night 
before and I was unable to record any more tempera- 
tures during the rest of the trip. Osgood and Rungius 
started down river for the purpose of establishing a camp 
near the Kalzas Mountains, while Selous and I made up 
our packs and started to climb the mountain. It was 
very steep in places and the walking was heart-breaking, 
particularly on the lower slopes where large areas, burnt 
over and storm-swept, were full of fallen spruce trees in 
tangled masses, surrounded by a dense growth of dwarf 
birch. Rabbits were very abundant, and a yellow-haired 
porcupine was seen — the only one noticed on our trip. 
Red squirrels were everywhere, and the jays joined them 
in giving sounds of life. 

At 4 p. M., after a tedious climb, we reached a good 
place to camp, about half a mile below timber-line, on the 
slope of a narrow draw through which a swollen creek 
rushed, leaping in cataracts as it descended through icy 
gorges to the river below. Everything was covered with 
fresh snow, which still continued to fall as we erected 
the shelter and started the fire. 

September 30. — The temperature fell at least to zero 
and the morning dawned bright and clear, but a strong 



144 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

wind blew from the north-west. Selous and Louis cHmbed 
Plateau Mountain, and I started to cHmb the ranges 
to the north-west. The adjoining mountains, separated 
from Plateau Mountain by draws, extend in vast rolling 
plateaus north-east to the Russell Mountains. They are 
about six thousand feet high and covered with dwarf 
birch and moss. Two or three miles across the rolling 
summits the west slopes descend abruptly in broken 
rocks, cliffs, and precipices. 

When I reached the top, the wind was so strong that 
it was not easy to face it and hence quite impossible to 
use my field-glasses. There was a magnificent view of 
the MacMillan River below, which appeared like a huge 
reptile winding back and forth between the ridges; and 
on the other side of it. Dromedary Mountain stood forth 
boldly in snowy outlines, a strong contrast to the sombre 
timbered area below. 

The tracks of a bull moose, which had crossed the 
summit, and descended to the timber early that same 
morning, were before me, and a short distance farther 
on, the fresh tracks of a cow moose and calf, joined by 
those of the bull, which had circled back again to meet 
them, showed that all of them had been feeding on scrub 
willow. Going toward the west, I came upon the tracks 
of five mountain sheep and followed them toward the 
north for two hours, until, having found a sheltered spot 
behind a rock where I could use my field-glasses, I saw 
that the trail was visible on the snow for two or three 
miles ahead, leading toward the Russell Mountains. 
Turning west again, I found fresh tracks of a cow caribou 



PLATEAU MOUNTAIN 145 

and a calf and followed them until the trail descended into 
a basin, when, looking across it, they were observed feed- 
ing on the opposite slopes near the summit. The calf 
fed quite independently of its mother, who neither looked 
up from her feeding nor appeared suspicious of danger, 
or paid the least attention to the calf when it strayed to a 
distance from her. After circling, I took up the sheep 
tracks and again followed them north to a point where 
the trail turned to the west. Following it, I crossed 
gullies, rocky slopes, basins, and ridges, until I could 
see the trail on the snow, two miles ahead. Then I 
knew that it was necessary to turn back or I would be 
caught on the summit in the dark, a long distance from 
camp. 

Unfortunately, I had no protection for my ears, which 
were frozen several times and rubbed soft again. After 
ascending to the east slopes of the moutain, I found abun- 
dant fresh moose tracks, all leading to a depression near 
the top which was the apex of several willow-filled ravines. 
Below was a large draw extending down between two 
mountains to the timber. The mountain-slopes on both 
sides were covered with willows, and moose tracks were 
numerous everywhere among them. There was a fine 
view of Moose Lake — a fairly large sheet of water. It 
was not frozen and appeared to glisten all over, shining 
out of the vast deep forest about it. Its outlet. Moose 
Creek, was visible, flowing in a meandering course 
through the timber to the MacMillan River. Beyond 
the wide forest was a series of high, rugged ranges 
bordering the Stewart River. 



146 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

Turning to the left, I climbed to the top and went in 
the direction where the cow caribou and her calf had last 
been seen earlier in the day. Numerous large flocks of 
ptarmigan were flying about, and soon the cow and calf 
were seen feeding on the flat top. As the sun was directly 
ahead I could not photograph them, even after approach- 
ing to within seventy-five yards, before the cow saw me. 
To have circled would have brought me in an unfavor- 
able wind. The cow looked at me a moment, and, joined 
by the calf, trotted twenty-five yards in my direction 
and both stood looking at me. I advanced again and 
both, moving off a short distance, again stopped and 
looked. As I came very close, both turned and trotted 
across the top and disappeared around the slope. It was 
interesting to observe that the surface where these two 
caribou had been feeding was completely covered with 
their tracks in all directions, and if the single trail 
leading up to the spot had not been clearly visible I should 
have been deluded into believing that a whole band had 
been feeding there. I crossed over to the edge of a deep 
caiion which separated the mountain from Plateau Moun- 
tain, the precipitous slopes of which were directly op- 
posite, rising six or seven hundred feet higher. 

High above, near the top, my eyes caught a large, 
dark animal moving along the side, and a look through 
my field-glasses revealed a bull moose with the right 
antler well developed, the left broken entirely off at the 
base. An unusual sight it was to see that bull moose 
slowly walking, often stopping to look about, just below 
the crest of the massive dome-shaped mountain, usurping 



PLATEAU MOUNTAIN 147 

the territory of sheep, caribou, and the grizzly bear! He 
continued to travel until appearing like a black speck in 
the glittering snow before he disappeared from sight. 

Turning my field-glasses toward the slope across the 
canon, a bull moose suddenly appeared directly opposite 
me, lying down a hundred feet above the timber. He 
seemed half-buried in the snow, and his chin was resting 
on it, while his small horns reached well up above the 
body. To the naked eye. In his resting attitude, about 
three hundred yards distant, he looked like a large bush, 
his horns appearing like the tops of willows and complet- 
ing the resemblance. He was resting on an incline so 
steep that It was impossible to approach noiselessly from 
above, and it would have been equally diflScult to ap- 
proach through the woods from below without alarming 
him. He had chosen a safe spot for undisturbed rest. 
Taking my birch horn from my riicksack, I gave a low 
call, but he neither moved nor pricked up his ears. 
I sounded several more calls, some of them louder, 
but not the slightest movement did he make. I waited 
for an hour, calling at intervals, very much interested in 
watching him, but not once did he show any suspicion of 
my presence or pay any attention to the noise made 
through the horn, nor was he alert and watchful. He 
seemed to sleep until just before dusk, when slowly rising 
and pushing his forefeet forward, he almost slid down the 
slope to the timber and was not seen again. 

Some time after dark I reached camp, a few moments 
before Selous came in. After an arduous tramp all over 
Plateau Mountain he had not seen fresh tracks of carl- 



148 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

bou, but just before reaching camp he had seen a small 
bull moose high on the mountain-side, but had not 
attempted to kill it. We knew that the caribou, following 
their resdess habits, had abandoned that locality for awhile 
at least, and therefore we decided to make for the river and 
go directly to Selkirk without pausing to hunt any more. 

October I. — In the morning we went back to the river 
and in the afternoon I went two miles below to call, 
while Selous started in an opposite direction. Both of us 
were unsuccessful and returned to the cabin. Selous, 
however, had shot a little brown crane. 

October 2. — We paddled down river all the next day 
until dark, when we made camp. It is worth recording 
that I saw a ptarmigan on the bank of the river— a most un- 
usual thing even in summer, and especially in fall. I have 
never before or since seen one so far down in the timber. 

October 3. — It was cold, and from that time until we 
reached Selkirk, the temperature at night must have been 
at least near zero and at times below. The river was full 
of slush ice, which somewhat impeded the progress of 
the canoes, though it was not solid enough to prevent 
them from easily slipping through. Not long after start- 
ing, a wolf was seen running along a bar, but it entered 
the woods before Selous could get a shot. At the foot 
of the Kalzas Mountain we found the camp of Rungius 
and Osgood. They had been calling every day without 
results. It was clear that the frenzy of the rut had 
passed and most of the bulls were then feeding up near 
the heads of the draws. After lunching, Selous and I 
went on, and the others were to join us below at the cabin 



PLATEAU MOUNTAIN 149 

near Kalzas Creek. As I was ahead and rounding a 
curve, I saw a lynx sitting on the bank of the river. My 
bullet struck it in the centre of the back and it ran into 
the woods, where I found it a few yards from the bank, 
lying down. It died in a few moments, and we took 
its skin and skull and proceeded until it was time to camp. 

October 4. — In the morning there was a great deal of 
hard ice in the river and it impeded our progress. When 
the cold season approaches, ice formed on the bottom 
floats to the surface in the morning, and this, together 
with that discharged by creeks, almost fills the river 
during the night, and runs very thickly in the morning. 
During the day much of it packs in the sloughs, lodges 
on the bars, remains in the still water in favorable places 
along the bank, and much of it wears out through fric- 
tion. In the afternoon, therefore, the river does not 
contain so much ice and navigation is freer. Continued 
cold causes the floating pieces to freeze together during 
the night, and sooner or later large fields of it coming 
down the river, jam in the canons or on the sharp curves, 
all freezing together. Unless a thaw comes soon after, 
the whole river may thus freeze and navigation is closed 
until the following summer. 

The ice continued to increase, and in some places we 
had difficulty in pushing the canoes through without 
breaking them. As it was, Selous's canoe received a large 
hole which could be only temporarily patched, and it 
leaked badly all the rest of the day until we reached the 
cabin at Kalzas Creek, where we found a trapper, named 
Lebell, who had arrived shortly before, intending to pass 



150 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

the winter there. Runglus and Osgood appeared later 
and we passed the night in the cabin. While floating 
down they had seen two lynxes. Bird life in the Mac- 
Millan was then almost absent — a few mergansers, a 
golden eagle, and the one ptarmigan were all I had seen 
while coming down the river. 

October 5. — The canoes had been well mended, but 
next morning the ice, frozen together in large cakes, was 
running "so dense that we felt some apprehension about 
getting down before the river was blocked. In many 
places we could not push through it, but were obliged to 
let the canoes drift until an opening could be found where 
we could reach channels of clear water. A mile down 
from the cabin, near the top of a hill on the right, a fine 
black bear was seen feeding on berries, and insisting 
that Selous should go after it, we backed our canoes in 
the ice on the opposite side as he went ashore. He soon 
disappeared in the thick brush on the hillside. But a 
moment after, the bear, having caught the wind blowing 
toward it from the boats, threw up its head, sniffed the 
air, and ran off. It disappeared before Selous could get 
close enough to shoot. While approaching, he had seen 
it through the brush several times but could not get 
an unobstructed line for a shot. Early in the afternoon, 
shortly before reaching the Pelly, I saw a lynx walking 
on a bar and undershot it three times before it ran into 
the woods. After making camp on a bank of the Pelly, 
Louis heard a bull moose grunting not far off and Selous 
accompanied him into the woods where he tried to coax 
it with a horn, but it was not heard again. 




Photograph by W. H. Osgood 



y permission of the U. S. Biological Survey. 



Plateau Mountain in August. 




Photf graph by Carl Rungius. 

MacMillan River and Dromedary Mountain photographed from the slope of 

Kalzas Mountain. 




PhUcigraph by Carl Rungius. 

Running through the ice in MacMillan River. 



PLATEAU MOUNTAIN 151 

For the next two days we paddled down the Pelly 
and late in the evening of October 7 we reached the 
Pelly Road House where Rungius, Osgood, and I re- 
mained for the night, while Selous went on down to Sel- 
kirk. The Pelly was full of ice, particularly above the 
caiion, through which we had to float with it. A herring- 
gull and a cross fox were the only live objects observed 
on the Pelly. 

We remained at Selkirk until the afternoon of Octo- 
ber 9, when the small steamer La France picked us up 
and carried us to Whitehorse, where we arrived early on 
October 13. Gage had gone back to Dawson; Coghlan 
remained at Pelly Road House to pass the winter looking 
after the horses used on the stage route between White- 
horse and Dawson, while Louis had gone up the Lewes 
River to catch dog salmon, which pass the mouth of the 
Pelly without entering it, for a supply of food for the 
dogs at the Selkirk Police Post. All had been excellent 
men, hard-working, efficient, always interested, and will- 
ing. When they left Selkirk, we realized that our Mac- 
Millan trip had ended. 



THE WATSON RIVER COUNTRY 



CHAPTER X 

THE WATSON RIVER COUNTRY— 1904 

October 13. — My friend, A. B. Newell, had arranged 
for me a trip to mountain ranges along the Watson River. 
C. E. Wynn-Johnson, an Englishman who had lived for 
several years at Skagway, was in Whitehorse waiting to 
accompany me, and Newell intended to join us a day 
later. The day was passed in Whitehorse purchasing 
provisions, completing preparations, and wandering 
about the town. 

October 14. — We took the train the next morning, hav- 
ing loaded three pack-horses and our provisions on a 
freight car. A young man, Burwash by name, had been 
employed as packer, and proved to be a willing and effi- 
cient assistant. The train stopped at Robinson, a side 
track twenty miles from Whitehorse, where the freight 
car was switched off. It was with sincere regret that I 
bade adieu to Selous. He had been a charming and un- 
selfish companion, and his considerate manners and 
gentle courtesy had endeared him to every man with 
whom he had come in contact. Experienced hunter 
that he is, perhaps more so than any other man living, 
his enthusiasm for nature and the wild life in the wilder- 
ness is as fresh as ever, while his love of natural history 
is intense, and his skill as a hunter extraordinary. 



156 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

Osgood's tireless energy had given me an insight 
into the character and ability of the men Dr. Mer- 
riam had gathered on the staff of the Biological Survey. 
Not only was Osgood indefatigable in collecting birds 
and mammals and hunting big game, but he also 
worked until late hours in the night preparing his speci- 
mens. 

Carl Rungius, a skilful hunter who has spent many 
years hunting big game in the Rocky Mountains and 
Canada, had used every opportunity to study his art. 
He made numerous color sketches of the game country, 
besides accurate drawings of the animals. He has since 
produced many realistic paintings of moose, caribou, 
bears, and sheep, revealing them in their true environ- 
ment in Yukon Territory. The train sped on; I saw 
Rungius and Osgood waving; we unloaded the horses, 
threw on the packs, and started. 

The country through which we tramped was fairly 
level, but barren, except for scattered clumps of pines 
and many small lakes. There were many holes of the 
ground-squirrel, tracks of rabbits, and not two miles 
from the railroad some very old tracks of moose. In the 
lakes, several species of ducks were abundant, and dur- 
ing the fall migration one of the lakes provided excellent 
shooting. I was interested to notice that the tops of 
nearly all the stunted pines had been completely gnawed 
off by rabbits, exactly like the willows along the bars of 
the rivers. Eight miles distant from the railroad were 
some cabins occupied by Bill Schnabel, his wife, and a 
miner named Foley. There we unloaded, and Burwash 



THE WATSON RIVER COUNTRY 157 

started back with an extra horse to bring Newell, who 
was to join us the next day. 

Bill Schnabel proved to be a very interesting man of 
distinct personality. He had been a cowboy in the States 
and had come to the Yukon during the early days of the 
stampede, having been a packer over the White Pass 
trail. He had been one of the first prospectors of the 
Atlin district, had travelled along the Yukon River above 
and below Dawson, and was then working an old pros- 
pect which he had located a few years previously, eight 
miles from his cabin. 

October 15. — The next day, pending Newell's arrival, 
I went out to investigate the country. I was in a vast 
forested area at the foot of massive mountains, the south- 
east slopes of which were bare, the tops and opposite 
slopes covered with snow. Most of the country had been 
burnt over and was covered with poplar, pines, and 
spruces, with willows and dwarf birch growing densely. 
I tramped all day and saw nothing but a few old moose 
tracks and bear diggings. Returning at dark I found that 
Newell had arrived, and the following day we packed 
the horses and started for the sheep mountains, eight 
miles distant, between the Watson and Wheaton Rivers. 
Schnabel's prospect was near there and to it he had cut 
an excellent trail on which the horses travelled easily, 
through a rolling, timbered country. That all this area 
had at one time been covered by a glacier was evident 
from the numerous large, circular depressions on the sur- 
face, some of which still contained small lakes. To the 
east was a high, massive range culminating in Mount 



158 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

Gray and extending more than twenty miles to Lake 
Bennett. To the west were various mountains and short 
ranges, separated by draws and wider valleys, not trend- 
ing in any particular direction. 

Newell and Johnson left the trail to make a circuit 
on a mountain side, and Schnabel and I continued to his 
cabin. Immediately after arriving, we went some dis- 
tance below and, climbing some low hills, scanned the 
mountain-slopes for sheep, but did not see any. The 
others were there when we returned, but nobody had seen 
any game. The cabin was situated at timber-line, at the 
head of a rolling, rocky pasture on the west side of the 
valley. In front, about a mile below, was a lake three 
miles long and half a mile wide, from the east shore of 
which the slopes of Mount Gray inclined upward, well 
pastured with grass, though steep, rocky, and furrowed 
with gorges, caiions, and ravines. The crest, flanked al- 
most continually with cliff^s and high precipices, is ser- 
ried with peaks and pinnacles, irregular and confused, 
presenting a long sawtooth sky-line. East of the cabin 
was a V-shaped draw, separating two high, irregular 
mountain ranges which lacked trend or continuity in any 
direction. Some of the mountains are rough and vary 
in height from five to seven thousand feet, others are 
dome-shaped and appear like huge, rolling plateaus. To 
the south, the mountains continue to Lake Bennett; in 
all directions they are massive and high, but present an 
appearance of confused groups, rather than well-defined 
ranges, like the Rockies east of the Yukon River. The 
inspiring grandeur of majestic mountain landscape is 



THE WATSON RIVER COUNTRY 159 

there, but the undefinable wildness seems lacking as 
compared with that of the Rockies. 

October 17. — The morning was warm and pleasant 
and Newell, having to return to Whitehorse, left early. 
Johnson and Foley started up the draw behind camp 
while I climbed the mountain to the south. It was cov- 
ered with an inch of snow and fox tracks were abundant, 
also fresh signs of sheep. It is a high mountain, reach- 
ing westward along the Wheaton River and the slopes 
are cut into caiions and ravines. From the top I could 
clearly see Lake Bennett and greatly admired the deep, 
broad valley of the Wheaton extending in a westerly course 
between massive domed ranges. The aspect of the tim- 
bered country below was singularly strange — quite differ- 
ent from any I have seen elsewhere in the northern coun- 
try. It appeared like a vast forested plain, terraced irreg- 
ularly in every direction between great circular, hollow 
bowls, each of which contained a pond, the surfaces of 
which reflected the rays of the sun in a manner to cause 
a shining appearance which spangled the whole lower 
country. It showed the results of a retreated glacier, the 
surface being diversified by kettle holes, drumlins, eskers, 
and kames. 

Looking across a canon along the side of the mountain, 
a transparent whitish spot on a rock caught my eye. 
My glasses revealed a ewe sheep which was soon joined 
by another that suddenly jumped up on the same rock. 
Higher up near a peak, I saw seven ewes and lambs feed- 
ing upward between pauses to look and watch. Turning 
the glasses below, I was almost startled to see sixteen 



i6o THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

more ewes and lambs feeding on the grass slope just above 
the timber. Pure white in body, most of them had black 
tails, though the tails of others were practically white. 
To be sure of securing meat as well as a specimen of the 
sheep of the district, I decided to shoot one now that 
the chance offered and at once planned an approach 
downward through a carion which would lead me near 
and opposite to where they were feeding. 

It was a difficult descent, and when nearly opposite 
the point I climbed the side of the canon and peeped 
over. Surprised to find that the sheep were not in sight, 
I concluded that, having entered another canon farther 
over on the slope, they were moving up; consequently I 
started diagonally upward on the loose, broken rock, 
hoping to intercept them from above. Suddenly I heard 
the sound of a big rock falling from high on the 
mountain opposite me, and, looking back, I saw Schnabel 
sitting among the loose rocks and signalling to me that 
the sheep were farther along the slope and higher up. 
I realized immediately that they had seen him and were 
off to climb the mountain. Notwithstanding my keen dis- 
appointment, I kept on climbing higher, but the sound of 
rocks and small boulders falling behind, caused me to 
wait until Schnabel, who was scrambling along, joined 
me. 

The sheep were then badly frightened, and as he 
came up I saw them running four hundred yards distant 
high on the mountain, entering among some cliffs on the 
other side of the canon. It was our only chance, and we 
both shot as they ran. He rushed ahead and kept firing 



THE WATSON RIVER COUNTRY i6i 

his 30-40 cartridges until his magazine was empty, but 
he did not hit one. When his last shot was fired an old 
ewe stopped on the edge of the cliff. I told him to stoop 
low, and, aiming a little above her, I fired and she fell. 
Immediately recovering and gaining her feet, she slowly 
walked downward and disappeared along the slope. 
Schnabel then went diagonally below while I climbed 
above, in order that one of us might get near enough to 
shoot her. After going some distance among caiions and 
boulders, I heard three shots, and looking below, saw the 
ewe running, but she passed out of sight before I could 
shoot. Hastening toward her, I soon saw her standing 
two hundred yards below, and, as I fired, she fell. Schna- 
bel then came around the slope seventy-five yards from 
her and she rose. He fired three times, missing. We 
both followed her as she walked down the slope and each 
fired again, both bullets striking her in the middle of 
the body. She continued to walk around the slope and 
passed through some very rough places for two hundred 
yards before she lay down. As we came up she was in 
dying convulsions. My first two bullets had passed 
through her stomach. One of Schnabel's, hitting her in 
the hind quarters without breaking a leg, had passed 
through the stomach and emerged, tearing a large hole 
well forward just behind the lungs. Our last two bul- 
lets had torn large holes in the centre of her body and all 
the entrails that had not already fallen out, were protrud- 
ing. Yet this animal had kept on walking over a rough 
surface, crossing cafions, descending and climbing for 
half an hour, and did not even fall at the last two shots. 



i62 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

Such extraordinary vitality is difficult to realize, but 
it is not peculiar to mountain sheep. It has been 
my experience that most of our other big game animals 
have the same vitality as sheep, and exceptional cases like 
this are not uncommon when the vitals are not immedi- 
ately reached, or the bones disabled. 

The skin was soon taken off and the meat cut up and 
carried to the foot of the mountain. It was then dark. 
Schnabel hung part of it on a tree and I shouldered the 
rest. We then staggered and stumbled four miles through 
the woods to camp. 

Johnson and Foley came in later, after having been 
obliged to make a dangerous mountain descent in the 
dark. They had emptied their magazines at a band of 
fifty sheep running at a distance, and had seen several 
others which they were unable to stalk. At that date 
rifle sights could not be seen at 5.30 in the afternoon 
and not until six in the morning. 

October 18. — The next day was windy and it seemed 
natural to be again on the tramp to find rams. I climbed 
the mountains to the north-west of camp, and dense dwarf 
birch rendered the walking very slow and tedious. I no- 
ticed a very old moose track and one of caribou. These 
animals are more abundant to the westward, but very 
scarce in the district where I was. Conies were abundant 
high up among the broken rocks and a few marmots were 
heard. Rabbits were exceedingly abundant and all were 
then white. No fresh sheep tracks were seen, although I 
tramped about on the crest and slopes until well into the 
afternoon. Golden eagles, ravens, and flocks of ptar- 



THE WATSON RIVER COUNTRY 163 

migan were as numerous as in the mountains east of the 
Yukon River. 

As I was descending, I saw across the valley two white 
specks on the north-west slope of Mount Gray, and my 
glasses revealed two sheep feeding high among the rocks. 
They soon lay down, and, it being too late to reach them 
before dark, I crossed the valley to determine their sex, 
but when I reached the lake there was not enough light 
to distinguish them. 

The shallow water at the head of the lake was covered 
with a thin sheet of ice. Beavers had damned the mouth 
of the inlet and the water had backed up to form another 
sm.all lake, which also was covered with ice. In the mid- 
dle of the latter they had constructed a large house. As 
I approached, the ice was cracking and I plainly heard 
splashing. Creeping silently to the shore, I saw three 
beavers at work on the house. At intervals each would 
swim under the ice to the shore and get a stick, which 
was held at one end in the teeth and taken under the ice. 
Every few feet the beaver would force its head against the 
ice, break it, and breathe for a moment. One proceeded 
in this way to the house, breaking the ice four times, 
another six times, and another seven. Reaching the 
house they would drag the stick upon it, and spend ten 
minutes in working it into the structure. They would then 
return for another stick. When it was too dark to watch 
them longer, I silently withdrew and returned to camp. 
Johnson had tramped all day without seeing a sheep. 

October 19. — Early in the morning I looked across the 
lake, to a spur projecting from Mount Gray, and saw two 



i64 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

sheep feeding among scattered clumps of willow not far 
above timber-line, and opposite our camp. They were 
rams — the same two that I had seen the day before. One 
was six or seven years old, with fair horns, the other about 
three. I reached the lake, intending to cross on a raft 
that Schnabel had constructed some time earlier in the 
summer. The day was clear and cold, but a strong wind 
was blowing, and not being able to manage the raft with 
a pole, I had to proceed two miles to the upper end, 
where I took off shoes and socks, cut a pole, and breaking 
the ice as I waded, finally reached the other side and 
immediately began to climb. 

The west slopes of Mount Gray are exceedingly steep 
and broken, and besides, an inch of dry snow had made 
them slippery and very difficult to climb. Finally, I 
reached the cliffs and snow cornices bordering the crest, 
and proceeded south in the direction where the sheep 
had been seen. Crossing two deep, rocky caiions, where 
conies were bleating, I reached the edge of a deep, wide 
canon and looking beyond saw the two rams lying down 
on the top of a turretted pinnacle, about five hundred 
yards away. They were facing in my direction and there 
was no possible approach except on the crest, which was 
inaccessible from that point because of continuous cliffs. 
It was very cold, and the wind was so strong that I could 
barely keep on the slope. I remained motionless for a 
long time until so thoroughly chilled that it was necessary 
to retreat and retrace my steps to start my circulation 
again. Thus I kept watching and walking for most of 
the afternoon, waiting for the rams to move to a spot 



THE WATSON RIVER COUNTRY 165 

where, after crossing the canon, I could approach them. 
Finally, when it was too late to stalk them, both rose and 
stood rigid, looking at the country below. No sight of 
animals in the American wilderness is quite so wonderful 
and inspiring as the mountain ram standing erect on his 
beloved crag and gazing at the wild country below him. 
Soon they began to feed indifferently on the very walls of 
the pinnacle, and then descended and walked along, pick- 
ing at weeds and grass until they wandered a few yards 
upward under some cliffs. Darkness was approaching 
and I had to act. I purposely aimed four feet above the 
larger one, in order to strike the cliffs so that he might 
possibly run toward me, and fired. At the sound of the 
rifle, both jumped to an alert position and looked down- 
ward. Another shot, and the larger ram gave a spring, 
and, followed by the smaller one, ran fifty yards along the 
slope and over the crest. My plan had failed and I was 
disgusted that I had not aimed straight at the ram. 

It was dusk when I reached the woods at the lower 
end of the lake, and about dark as I neared the brook at 
the inlet. When near the bank, I was startled to see a 
dark, shadowy object jump into some thick brush not 
eight feet from me, but instantly recognizing a lynx, I 
fired at it. Advancing two steps, what did I see but the 
dim outline of another crouching low on the ground five 
feet in front of me, too frightened to expose itself and flee. 
Quickly pointing my rifle at it, without even seeing the 
sights, I fired and killed it, driving the bullet through the 
middle of its body. After skinning it, I proceeded, fol- 
lowing a terrace almost overhanging the shore of the lake. 



i66 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

It was full moonlight. The wind had stopped, the 
sky was clear, and the woods were hushed and still. Now 
and then a duck quacked; more often a muskrat splashed, 
and everywhere I saw the silvery ripples of the water as 
they swam about. The border of ice attached to the 
shores glittered in the soft light, and the crystal waters 
of the lake mysteriously reflected the massive form of 
Mount Gray towering among the snow-clad summits, 
mystic and imposing under the golden light. All about 
through the silent, desolate woods, the hoots of the great- 
horned owls sounded; white phantom forms of rabbits 
continually flitted about as I slowly advanced. 

Reaching camp I found that Johnson and Schnabel 
had seen the same band of ewes again, but had been 
unable to approach them. 

October 20. — While scanning through my glasses the 
slopes of Mount Gray the next morning, what was my 
surprise to see a small ram feeding low on the slope two 
miles to the south! I watched it for an hour as it fed 
slowly upward, but no other appeared. I was certain 
that he was the smaller of the two which I had stalked 
the day before. Without having suspected it, my second 
shot must have hit the larger one and he was evidently 
dead. I went to the lower end of the lake, climbed the 
mountain, found a way over the crest, searched every- 
where, but could not find a sign of him, the wind having 
filled the tracks with snow. It was dark when I returned 
to camp. Johnson had seen nothing. 

October 21. — ^The next day we left, caught the train, 
and reached Whitehorse in the evening. 



THE WATSON RIVER COUNTRY 167 

A few grizzlies and black bears wander about that 
section of the Watson River country, but moose and cari- 
bou seldom range there. Now, alas! Mining prospects 
are being worked, and the sheep are practically exter- 
minated. A sight of big game is only to be obtained 
twenty or thirty miles farther to the west. 

October 24. — I sailed from Skagway on the steamer 
Cottage City, and left that wonderful country where I had 
passed the summer. The voyage down the coast was 
delightful, and continually enlivened by the hosts of gulls 
that followed the steamer. The weather was calm, and 
apparently as warm as when I had come up in June. 

October 29 I landed at Victoria, and immediately 
made preparations for a trip after wapiti on the north 
end of Vancouver Island. 



THE KATZEHIN RIVER 
THE PELLY RIVER 



CHAPTER XI 

THE KATZEHIN RIVER IN ALASKA— 1905 

During the month of May, in the year 1905, I had 
been hunting the big bears on Montague Island, which 
stretches across the entrance to Prince WilUam Sound in 
Alaska. On my return I had reached Skagway June 3, 
with the intention of leaving immediately for the Upper 
Pelly River. By previous correspondence I had engaged 
accommodations for myself, another man, and our equip- 
ment, on the little river steamer Quick which, by the 
terms of a contract made with the trading post — Nahanni 
House — at the mouth of the Ross River, was scheduled 
to leave Selkirk June 10, for the purpose of conveying 
a year's supply of provisions and trading goods to the post. 

On my arrival in Skagway, I received a letter from 
the captain, informing me that the date of leaving had 
been deferred and was uncertain. This led to a corre- 
spondence which kept me in uncertainty for more than a 
month; and, finally, I was obliged to give up waiting for 
the Quick and go to Dawson, to try and make other 
arrangements for transportation up the Pelly. 

In the meanwhile, I remained in the vicinity of Skag- 
way, quite uncertain, not only of the outcome of my con- 
tinued efforts to get definite information from the captain 

171 



172 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

of the Quick, but also of my attempts to arrange else- 
where for transportation. 

During that anxious period, I made two short trips 
for the purpose of fishing for graylings in the lakes and 
rivers beyond the summit of White Pass, both with in- 
different success; and also a third trip up the Katzehin 
River, to find black bears, which were said to be numer- 
ous there, and to see the white goats, which are very 
abundant in the mountains. 

June 14. — My friend C. E. Wynn-Johnson and I 
started on this trip by going first to Haines Mission in a 
small steamer, which later brought us to the mouth of the 
Katzehin, a glacial river entering Lynn Canal sixteen 
miles below Skagway. About noon we were landed at 
low tide well out on the sand flats, and immediately 
began to track our Peterborough canoe up one of the 
numerous channels of the river. 

The Katzehin River flows from the Meade Glacier 
which lies in ranges fifteen miles from the coast. With 
a heavy volume of water, it rushes in abrupt descent 
through a wide glacial valley, the floor of which has been 
smoothed by the swift waters to a rough bar, over which 
the river divides into numerous channels, nearly all indis- 
tinguishable from the main one. 

After working through the flats, which at low tide 
cover an area of several square miles, and entering the 
main river where it flows in a single channel for half 
a mile or more, we were immediately enclosed by high 
mountains which surround the valley. Above this, sev- 
eral channels were encountered, all flowing to a junction, 



THE KATZEHIN RIVER IN ALASKA 173 

and each again dividing at intervals in such a way as to 
form many large creeks running parallel over the entire 
surface of the wide, continuous bar. Then began as 
difficult a task of tracking a canoe as I have ever experi- 
enced. The water was one continual, swift riffle, and 
it required all of our combined strength to pull the boat 
against it. We could not select the right channel and 
kept hauling on the line until, after having proceeded from 
two hundred yards to a quarter of a mile, the water be- 
came so shallow that it was necessary to retreat and try 
another channel until the right one was found. In this 
way we progressed until midnight before camping, and 
again all the next day, gaining only ten miles to a point 
where the river bends sharply toward the glacier, then 
four miles distant. There we made camp on the bank 
of a clear creek, emerging from a canon, evidently flow- 
ing from a lake high up in the mountains and entering 
the Katzehin River at the curve. High, rugged moun- 
tains with precipitous slopes and sharp, serried crests, 
broken into spires and pinnacles, reared up very close 
on both sides of us. 

The following morning I started north along the slope 
of a mountain, while Johnson went in an easterly direc- 
tion. Two bands of goats, each numbering fifteen or 
twenty, were feeding in a grassy space near the crest above 
me, and I watched them more or less all day. Not having 
a permit to shoot one out of season, I did not attempt to 
go after them. It would have been quite possible to 
have stalked them, although that mountain, like all others 
of the coast ranges near the Katzehin River, was exceed- 



174 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

ingly difficult to surmount because of Its steep slopes. 
The goats remained near the green pastures all day, 
alternately feeding and lying down; but now and then 
one would climb a sheer precipice, apparently for no 
other reason than sport, and soon return again to the 
band. In no sense were they alert or watchful, like sheep, 
and I seldom saw one raise Its head to look about. 

During the whole day, only one old track of a black 
bear was seen, and that was In the bottom of a canon. 
The woods were exceedingly dense, filled with willow, 
alder, and devils club. In places, the latter, so thick that 
it was impenetrable, formed the most serious obstacle to 
progress everywhere on the slopes below timber-line. In 
no part of the northern coast country have I seen devils 
club so dense. 

Johnson, after a long tramp, had seen nothing but 
goats. The next day we started for the Meade Glacier, 
which loomed up at the head of the valley, seamed, tur- 
retted, and spired. It required two and a half hours to 
cross the several channels of the river, since we were 
obliged to walk back and forth to find fording places, and 
the wading through the stiff current was attended with 
much danger. 

Goats were scattered about high on the mountains to 
the east, both singly and In small bands, many of them 
feeding on the walls of cliffs, others browsing among the 
second growth well down on the slopes. Now and then 
one would appear apparently glued to the perpendicular 
wall of a peak, which It would slowly climb, and on reach- 
ing the top would loom up against the sky-line. Arriving 



THE KATZEHIN RIVER IN ALASKA 175 

at the glacier, which was practically a mountain of ice, I 
climbed up at one side, and, crossing deep crevasses 
bridged here and there by narrow walls of ice, climbing 
up and down the pinnacles of the irregular surface, trav- 
elled two miles back into the ice world, which continues, 
perhaps, a hundred miles or more behind the coast range. 
Evidences of life were limited to a few old black bear 
tracks seen on the bars, and a porcupine observed close 
to a channel of the river. 

We tramped about the next day without seeing any- 
thing but goats, and, June 19, placed our canoe in the 
main channel of the river and raced to the mouth in an 
hour and a half. The tide was low and we had to wait 
until afternoon, when the small steamer came to bring us 
back to Skagway. Soon after starting, I saw a most in- 
teresting sight. Bald eagles and gulls were very numer- 
ous about the flats, and as we were coasting a mile out 
from the shore, a gull, body pusued by an eagle, flew 
rapidly by the steamer. Soon a second eagle joined the 
chase, and then a third. For half an hour we watched the 
gull trying to escape the death pursuit, until finally it suc- 
ceeded. One of the eagles would directly chase it, 
the other two at the same time flying in a parallel course, 
one on each side, twenty-five yards distant. The middle 
eagle with long, sweeping wing-beats, would rapidly gain on 
the gull until near enough to swoop, with talons extended 
to seize it. But the gull would suddenly dodge by making 
a rapid dive or a quick, perpendicular ascent, when 
the momentum of the eagle would carry it far beyond. 
Then one of the other eagles would quickly swing around 



176 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

and resume the chase as the first aggressor was returning 
to a flanking position. Again and again an eagle would 
gain, swoop, and miss, as the active gull successfully 
dodged, until at length when all were approaching the 
shore, the eagles gave up the chase and alighted on trees, 
while the gull wheeled and disappeared among the other 
gulls flying over the flats. 



CHAPTER XII 

THE PELLY RIVER— 1905 

Having stopped at both Whitehorse and Selkirk in 
the hope of finding a means of transportation up the 
Pelly, I arrived in Dawson July 12, where good luck 
at last came to me. 

It had just been decided to send the steamer Vidette— 
the patrol-boat of the North-west Mounted Police — up the 
Pelly on an inspection trip, for the purpose of investigat- 
ing the condition of the Indians and of gathering as 
much information as possible about the trappers and the 
country. My friend, Major Zachary Taylor Wood, com- 
mander of all the Police in the Yukon Territory, invited 
me to go on the Vidette as a guest, and it was to leave 
Selkirk July 17. Major Wood, who had been command- 
ing officer in the Territory from the days of the first rush 
into Dawson, was keenly interested in science and natu- 
ral history, and had taken special interest in my trips. 
In every way he assisted me, and It is owing to his 
courtesy more than anything else, that I was enabled to 
carry out the plans for that summer, which had long be- 
fore been decided upon. 

The next night I boarded the steamer Dawson and 
reached Selkirk the morning of July 17, to find the 

Vidette already there, under the command of Captain 

177 



1 78 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

John Taylor, of the North-west Mounted PoHce, whom 
Major Wood had detailed to make the Pelly River in- 
spection. Besides the regular captain, pilot, and crew of 
the Vidette, several trappers and prospectors, who had 
come down the Pelly early in the summer to get pro- 
visions, were there waiting for the boat to start, and 
thoroughly happy at the generosity of Major Wood, who 
had asked them to join the boat as guests of the govern- 
ment, thus saving the long, hard journey which they 
would have had if they had been obliged to pole and 
track their loaded canoes up the river. 

Tom Jeffries, a tall, broad-shouldered French Cana- 
dian, whom I had engaged to accompany me for the 
summer, was there waiting for me. He had passed his 
early life among the lumber camps in Eastern Canada, 
and following his vocation had gradually drifted west- 
ward until the Klondike rush, when he joined that ex- 
cited crowd of gold-seekers. He, like so many others, 
had wandered about the Yukon Territory in the hope of 
locating a good prospect, until, after repeated failures, 
he had taken to trapping for the purpose of getting a 
grub-stake in order to again indulge the never-fading 
hope of finding gold. Though not a hunter, he was a 
thorough woodsman and was reputed to rank among 
the best canoemen in the whole country. Also, he had 
spent one winter on the banks of the Pelly opposite the 
Glenlyon Mountains, where, later in the fall, I intended 
to look for sheep. I had obtained a fine Strickland canoe 
from the White Pass Railroad, and had purchased the old 
horse Danger, one of our pack-horses of the preceding 



i2s:to' 



SCALE OF MfLES 

5 S i^) Tfi io 25 iJo 




Map of Ross River, showing author's hunting camps, including that in Pelly Mountains. 

Othir hunting camps along the Pelly River are indicated in the map of Yukon Territory. 



THE PELLY RIVER 179 

summer. Horse, canoes, and provisions were loaded on 
the boat, and at 2.30 in the afternoon we started and were 
soon steaming up the Pelly River. 

July 17. — The Vidette was a small stern-wheel steamer 
of light draft and powerful engines; her captain and pilot 
were experienced river navigators and had long been in 
the service of the government. Two of the trappers. Van 
Gorda and Corning, were returning to their cabins on 
the upper Pelly above Hoole Caiion. Another, Rose, had 
a cabin on the Pelly, fifty miles below Ross River; and 
two other prospectors were about to winter at Hoole 
Canon to prospect the creeks in that vicinity. 

How delightful it was to be again steaming up the 
Pelly in a comfortable little steamer, under sunny skies, 
with interesting companions, and with the anticipation of 
exploring new country and studying the sheep! 

Two of the trappers had occupied cabins that I had 
seen the previous year on the banks of the MacMillan, 
and I tried to get from all as much information as possible 
about the country and its animals. But the trappers and 
even the market hunters of Yukon Territory and Alaska, 
with rare exceptions, care little about the habits of ani- 
mals and have not cultivated the power of accurate 
observation. Though some are good moose hunters, and 
understand where to find and how to kill these animals, 
they appear to know little about their life history, and 
even such observations as they have made are unusually 
tinctured with erroneous interpretation. Many of them 
agree on the methods of trapping lynxes, martens, and 
beavers — the principal animals trapped — but all differ as 



i8o THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

to their habits. I did not, therefore, get much rehable 
information about the denizens of the northern wilder- 
ness, until, when thirty miles up the river, we picked 
up a young English trapper, J. F. Hosfall, with his wife 
and four children, who were tracking a long poling boat 
loaded with a year's supplies. They had started for 
Kalzas Creek on the MacMillan River, where they in- 
tended to pass the winter and trap in the country about 
Kalzas Lake. Captain Taylor at once took them aboard 
and I first made the acquaintance of Mrs. Hosfall — that 
remarkable woman who so appealed to Selous, when he 
met her the following year, that he incorporated a short 
sketch of her, together with some incidents in her life, 
in his book. Recent Hunting Trips in British North 
America. 

My acquaintance with her was often renewed in after 
years, and I have found her the most interesting char- 
acter I have known in Alaska or Yukon Territory. Her 
father, a sturdy, upright American, was one of the trad- 
ers who had settled on the Yukon River in the early 
days of the advent of the Alaska Commercial Company; 
and, like nearly all of these men, had taken to himself 
an Indian woman as companion. Born about twenty-five 
years before I met her, of a mother in the tribe of Indians 
occupying hunting territory in the vicinity of the Porcu- 
pine River, in early youth she had been taken to the 
missionary established at Fort McPherson on the Peel 
River. During the summers she was trained In reading, 
writing, cooking, and domestic work. Fall, winter, and 
spring she had joined her mother, and with her had fol- 



THE PELLY RIVER i8i 

lowed the band of Indians, thus leading the wandering 
life of these aboriginal hunters and trappers. She had 
even wandered as far as Great Bear Lake, and after mar- 
rying Hosfall when she was twenty years of age, she 
had accompanied him in his trapping life, having been 
three years near the head of the Chandelar River, and 
having spent the last two years trapping on the Pelly. 
As a tribute to her resourcefulness, Selous has related her 
remarkable experience after the burning of her cabin, 
which occurred in the spring before I met her. He well 
remarks that she has Inherited the best traits of both 
races. Her graceful figure was lithe and sinewy; her face 
was stamped with an exceedingly sweet expression; her 
manners were modest and refined; her language flowed 
in a soft, sympathetic tone. These traits gave to her per- 
sonality an Idealistic reality — the only time I have ever 
seen it among Indian women — which the romantic Indian 
maidens of fiction have often called forth in the imagination. 
In all that pertained to hunting, trapping, woodcraft, 
and life In the far Northern wilderness, Mrs. Hosfall com- 
bined the instincts and knowledge of the Indian with the 
capacity of the white man. Supple, strong, and endur- 
ing, she could pole or track a boat, handle an axe, build 
a cabin, shoot a rifle, hunt, put out traps and nets, as 
well as most experienced white men. In addition she 
could cook even better than most white women — certainly 
very much better with the provisions gleaned from the 
woods, and under the conditions in the wilderness. She 
was also skilful to a high degree In all the practical work 
performed by Indian women — dressing animals, and tan- 



i82 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

ning their skins, catching and drying fish, making moc- 
casins, robes and clothes; and in the execution of their 
artistic products of beadwork and porcupine-quill work, 
she was as efficient and creative in design as the best of 
them. She spoke English perfectly, and also the Indian 
language of her race. Her knowledge of animal life, 
based on interested observation and experience, was so 
accurate that I have never found reasons to doubt her 
assertions about it. She was accompanied by four little 
daughters, the oldest five years, the youngest born the 
preceding winter — healthy, active, bright-eyed little crea- 
tures, very pretty, and with the sweetest of dispositions. 
They were truly little wild sprites of the wilderness in 
which they had been born and bred. The two youngest 
were born on the banks of the Felly, each in midwinter 
when the thermometer registered many degrees below zero 
and when Mrs. Hosfall was in her cabin entirely alone — 
her husband being absent on the trapping line. When 
one considers the conditions, and realizes that Mrs. Hos- 
fall was obliged, unaided, not only to endure confinement, 
but also to keep her fire burning and to cook and care for 
the other children at the same time, the fact that she 
passed through it all successfully provokes some reflec- 
tion on the advantages of leading a natural life. The 
highest tribute to the character of Mrs. Hosfall is the 
fact that she is not only beloved by all trappers, pro- 
spectors, and other white men who have known her, but 
she is absolutely respected by them. 

The boat steamed ahead and the next morning arrived 
at Granite Carion, where the experienced captain directed 



THE PELLY RIVER 183 

her course along the left bank, and soon threw out a rope, 
which was pulled by half a dozen men just enough to take 
up the slack. This was sufficient to assist her powerful 
engine to overcome the resistance and propel the boat 
over a short, strong rapid. That was the only assistance 
required to navigate the long rapids of the caiion. What 
a contrast to my experience on the Emma Knoty when we 
were trying to go through the year before! Later in the 
morning we reached the mouth of the MacMillan River 
where the Hosfalls were left to occupy, for a short time, a 
small cabin constructed on the bank of the Pelly, close to a 
big eddy, which was an excellent place to set a net and 
obtain a stock of King salmon, which were then begin- 
ning to run up the river. After leaving the mouth of 
the MacMillan, I entered a region entirely new to me. 

The Pelly River, discharging a volume of water 
slightly less than that of the Lewes, joins it at Selkirk. 
The Yukon River is formed by their junction. In the 
summer of 1840, the Hudson Bay Company, having estab- 
lished a post at Fort Halkett on the lower Liard River, 
commissioned Robert Campbell, one of those doughty 
Scotch pioneers in its employ, to explore the North Branch 
of the Liard to its source and cross over the divide of 
land in search of a river flowing westward. With two 
Indians, Lapie and Ketza, and an interpreter, Hoole, 
Campbell successfully crossed the divide and discovered 
the river, which he named in honor of Sir H. Pelly, a 
Governor of the Company. 

After floating down a few miles on a raft they re- 
turned, and, in 1842, the Hudson Bay Company con- 



i84 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

structed a trading post, Fort Felly Banks, thirty-one miles 
above Hoole Canon. In 1843, Campbell, accompanied 
by Hoole, two French Canadians and three Indians, left 
that place in a canoe and descended to the Lewes River, 
which he named after Chief Factor, John Lee Lewes. 
In 1848, Campbell established Fort Selkirk at the junc- 
tion of the Pelly and Lewes. 

In 1849, the post at Pelly Banks was accidently burnt 
and in 1850 was abandoned. In that same year, Camp- 
bell descended the main Yukon to the mouth of the Por- 
cupine, and proved that the Lewes, Pelly, and Yukon 
were identical. In 1852, on the 21st of August, Fort Sel- 
kirk was pillaged by the Chilkat Indians, and the post 
had to be abandoned. Campbell set out in a canoe, 
ascended the Pelly, crossed to Lake Frances, descended 
the Liard, and arrived at Fort Simpson the 21st of Octo- 
ber. After winter set in, he travelled overland to Crow 
Wing in Minnesota, arriving there the 13th of March, 
and reached London the i8th of April. Such a wonderful 
journey, undertaken for the purpose of persuading Sir 
George Simpson to re-establish Fort Selkirk, deserved 
more recognition than it received, for the directors of 
the company decided to abandon the Selkirk trading post 
altogether. 

As an explorer, Robert Campbell, discoverer of the 
Pelly and the Lewes, the true sources of the upper Yukon, 
deserves to rank among those mighty men, Hearne, Mac- 
Kenzie, Dease, and Simpson. He left no book to ex- 
ploit his achievements, but fortunately Dr. George M. 
Dawson established communication with him before 



THE PELLY RIVER 185 

his death, and thus preserved a precious account of his 
career. 

In the '8o's, wandering prospectors were gradually 
spreading over the Yukon Territory, and some of them 
ascended the Pelly to prospect along its bars. 

It was not until 1887, however, when the late Dr. 
George M. Dawson, the eminent Canadian geologist, nav- 
igated the river from old Pelly Bank Post to the Lewes, 
that a survey of the river was made and positive informa- 
tion about it was published. 

Dr. Dawson and his party ascended the Stikine, pro- 
ceeded down the Dease and up the Frances to Frances 
Lake, crossed the divide, and after descending the Pelly 
to its confluence with the Lewes, ascended the latter 
river, and crossing the Chilkoot Pass, arrived at the head 
of Lynn Canal September 20. 

The results of that exploration were published in a 
report of such excellence and accuracy, that to my mind 
it is not only a model of what such reports should be, 
but has not since been equalled by any of the numerous 
publications of explorations issued by the Geological Sur- 
veys of either Canada or the United States. 

Not only are the topography, geology, climatic con- 
ditions, and natural history, treated as fully as the limited 
time on such a long journey would permit, but space is 
also given to the history of the region and a discussion 
of the Indian tribes inhabiting it. The accompanying 
maps are complete and accurate.* 

In 1892, Warburton Pike ascended the Stikine, win- 

*See Append^. 



i86 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

tered on the Dease River, and in the spring of 1893 crossed 
Frances Lake on the ice, and travelled overland by a 
route farther to the south than that followed by Dr. Daw- 
son. He discovered the Felly Lakes and observed the 
main tributary of the Felly, one hundred and forty miles 
above the mouth of the Ross, but did not ascend it. 
Descending the Yukon to Ikogmut, he crossed to the 
Kuskokwim and reaching its delta, canoed around the 
coast to Nushagak, where he embarked on a schooner 
bound for Unalaska. His delightful book. Through the 
Subarctic Forest, in which he narrates his remarkable 
journey, mentioning too lightly the dangers, difficulties, 
and hardships, will forever remain one of the classics of 
north-western travel. 

After the rush into the Klondike in 1897, numerous 
prospectors and trappers ascended the Felly and its 
tributaries, but all except a few trappers, and now and 
then a stray prospector, had abandoned it long before I 
made my trip. 

The mountain regions bordering it, except here and 
there on the outside ranges, had not been penetrated, and 
the game animals, particularly the sheep, had practically 
not been disturbed. 

Of all rivers navigable by canoe in Alaska or the 
Yukon Territory, the Felly is quite the most enchanting. 
Its current is swifter than that of the MacMillan. Above 
its confluence with the latter, it flows in a meandering 
course back and forth in a wide valley, lined on one side 
or the other by long, smooth, hard gravel bars, or lofty 
escarped banks often castellated into turrets and pillars 



THE PELLY RIVER 187 

of fantastic shape. Numerous fine groves of tall spruces 
are scattered along its banks; tall poplars, growing on 
smooth, hard ground, continually fringe its shores. 

The valley, varying from three to ten miles in width, 
is terraced on both sides, the land rising In a succession of 
high benches clothed with aspens and scattered spruces, 
and brightened by openings carpeted with green grass, 
which give It a happy aspect. Lofty mountain ranges, 
whose axes parallel the main course of the Pelly, extend 
far beyond the Ross River, and include the Glenlyons, 
which almost overhang the right bank of the Pelly. 

July 18. — We steamed up this magnificent river while 
the days were clear and the sun was hot. No obstacles 
impeded the progress of the skilfully managed boat, which 
climbed over every riffle and kept strictly to the main 
channel, only stopping for the purpose of cutting a wood 
supply or tying to the bank during the dark twilight be- 
tween midnight and two in the morning. 

July 19. — Before me was the map made by Dr. Daw- 
son, a map so accurate that as we progressed I could 
locate not only every island, but every grove of spruce 
trees. His description of the country proved to be so cor- 
rect that I must again call attention to the accuracy of 
his report — a high tribute to that eminent man in whose 
death Canada suffered a loss not easily repaired. After 
passing the Glenlyons, we were close to the mountains 
of the Tay River on the left, until those of the Pelly 
range loomed up in the distance. 

Bird life at that season was as scarce as usual, and 
only a few moose tracks were seen on the bars. The 



i88 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

beaver cuttings were old — all beavers having long before 
been trapped. During the steamboat trip we did not 
see an animal of any kind except red squirrels. 

July 20. — The following morning we reached Rose's 
cabin and left him there. He had told me there were 
sheep in the mountains behind, and I intended to investi- 
gate them on my return in the fall. 

In the afternoon, shortly after seeing an old Indian and 
two boys on the left bank, we came to their camp, where 
four families were occupying tents. They were catching 
salmon, and numerous fish were hung to dry on poles. 
They had an abundant supply of moose meat, and never 
have I seen Indians in the north of such healthy and 
vigorous appearance. As I took the horse off the boat, 
all started to run, and their dogs, which were tied near 
the tents, became greatly excited and struggled against their 
chains in efforts to attack him. None of the Indians of the 
upper Pelly River had ever before seen a horse. Reassured, 
they soon came back and Captain Taylor distributed some 
presents including cigars, which the squaws promptly be- 
gan to smoke, while even the children begged for them. 

Soon after leaving the Indian camp, the Pelly ranges 
were more distinctly visible, high dome-shaped mountains 
fronting the river, and now and then I could see a snow- 
capped peak appearing far in the interior. To penetrate 
the Pelly Mountains and hunt the sheep was the object 
of my trip. In these ranges Indians had their hunting 
grounds, principally for moose, since they only kill sheep 
on the outer range. Except for an occasional prospector 
who had wandered near the outer range, no white man 



THE PELLY RIVER 189 

had hunted in their depths, and practically nothing was 
known about them. For the purpose of penetrating 
them I had brought Danger^ but the question of a feasi- 
ble route, and the habitat of the sheep, remained to be 
solved. I hoped to get from the Indians sufficient infor- 
mation to enable us to reach the outer range, from which 
it would be necessary to find a way into the interior 
ranges beyond. 

The river above was shallow, and once some difficulty 
was experienced before overcoming a swift rapid, but the 
boat steamed on until midnight, with glorious mountain 
vistas on both sides, and starting again after two hours, 
approached Nahanni House at eight in the morning, the 
steam whistle blowing and colors flying. 

July 21. — As the Vidette rounded the curve into Ross 
River and made fast, I gazed from the deck at the multi- 
tude of Indians — men, women, and children — all as- 
sembled on the bank and nervously rushing about. That 
tribe of Indians had been less in contact with white men 
than any other in the north, and their behavior called to 
mind the gatherings at the Hudson Bay trading-posts in 
early days. The sight was one to be long remembered. 
When the gang-plank was put out I suddenly rode 
Danger to the shore and approached the Indians on a 
trot, while men, women, and children were fleeing in 
all directions and shouting in fright. My progress was 
suddenly checked, however, for at once a dozen or more 
dogs rushed at the horse, howling and snapping. If the 
trappers had not quickly beaten them off, the horse surely 
would have been disabled. 



iQo THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

After a short time we decided to make a temporary- 
camp on the other side of the Felly River, not only for the 
safety of the horse, but to keep our provisions at a dis- 
tance from the dogs. The boat brought us across, the 
provisions and equipments were unloaded, and the Vidette 
departed to ascend the river for the purpose of finding 
the limit of steamboat navigation. Captain Taylor, a 
charming gentleman, had been a delightful host, the com- 
pany had been attractive and interesting, and that steam- 
boat trip up the Felly was the most fascinating one I 
have ever taken on the northern rivers. 

We soon erected a shelter, cached our provisions, and 
while Danger was feeding in the long grass growing 
abundantly near the camp, we recrossed the river to the 
Indian encampment. With the exception of the Indians 
we had seen below on the river, the whole tribe was 
there, waiting for the return of Mr. Lewis, owner of 
Nahanni House. He had gone to Victoria, and was to 
return on the Quick with ammunition, which was entirely 
lacking at the Post, and the Indians could not depart to 
hunt until they were supplied with it. 

The tribe of Felly Indians, including all its members, 
comprised eighty-nine Indians. There is some doubt as 
to its exact ethnological status; but none that it should 
be included in the group of tribes referred to by the 
Hudson Bay Company's people as Nahanni. It is also 
closely allied to that branch of the Nahanni group desig- 
nated as Kaska, which includes two cognate tribes oc- 
cupying the territory tributary to Dease River east of 
McDames Creek, and to the upper Liard River. The 



Ql 



)/: 




'^. 'k 



^K^\|. 







% I "^^►^ 






THE PELLY RIVER 191 

tribe is called by different names by the adjacent tribes, 
and Dr. Dawson proposes the name of Es-pat-o-ti-na. 
By comparing numerous words of the Pelly Indians with 
those in the vocabularies appended to Dr. Dawson's 
report, I found them to correspond very closely, if 
not exactly (most of them are the same) with those 
of the Ti-tsho-ti-na tribe — the western branch of the 
Kaska. 

Two years before I arrived there, Tom Smith, a 
trader, had established the post, which later was pur- 
chased by Mr. Lewis, who named it Nahanni House. 
Before the establishment of that post, the Indians had 
traded through Indians of Liard Post on the Liard River, 
and sometimes with the Indians attached to the trad- 
ing-post at the mouth of the Big Salmon River on the 
Lewes. Missionaries had never been among them, and 
their contact with whites after the Pelly Banks Post was 
abandoned in 1850, until Nahanni House was established, 
was only incidental, as when individuals of the tribe had 
met wandering prospectors. 

Owing to these facts more than anything else, they 
were the healthiest and finest looking Indians I have ever 
seen in the interior of the northern country. Most of 
the men were fine specimens, and also the women, who 
bore children abundantly and reared them in health and 
vigor. They were all absolutely honest and lived a prim- 
itive Indian life, except that after Nahanni House was 
established, they used tents instead of the old brush 
shelters. They wore white man's clothing, and utilized 
the other novelties provided by the store. Up to that 



192 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

time they had not permitted a single one of their women 
to mingle with a white man; the tribe, therefore, was in 
that respect the single exception among all the tribes, 
both coast and interior, in the whole north country. 

Their habits are exactly similar to those of other 
northern Indians. Their country has been partitioned, 
and sections are allotted to different members of the tribe, 
who spend the fall, winter, and spring hunting and trap- 
ping until the salmon arrive, when they catch and dry 
enough to last them for a short time, until they again 
begin to hunt. At that time, they differed from other 
Indians in not having acquired the lazy habits usually 
characteristic of life near a trading-post, nor had they 
been in the least demoralized by whiskey. Neither did 
they suffer from some of the habits acquired through well- 
meaning, but short-sighted and misdirected missionary 
enterprise. 

Walking into their camp I soon found one of them 
who knew a few words of English, and after several had 
gathered about me, we held a conversation. One had 
the skin of a sheep, and as he handed it to me his dog 
snapped at my leg, and immediately several dogs rushed 
at me, while the squaws came running from the tents and 
clubbed them away. Indian dogs dislike white men as 
much as a white man's dog hates an Indian. Had I 
been alone, those dogs might have killed me, especially if 
I had fallen. 

As a result of the fragmentary information I could get 
from the Indians, I decided to strike across the country 
and reach the Lapie River at the point where it emer- 



THE PELLY RIVER 193 

ges from the mountains, and try to penetrate the more 
distant ranges by following up its course. 

Later the Vidette returned, having encountered a rapid, 
four miles above, which she could not force through. 
After spending the evening on her deck we slept under 
our shelter until awakened by the whistle announcing her 
departure. 



CHAPTER XIII 

THE PELLY MOUNTAINS— 1905 

July 22. — The next day was very hot, and after sifting 
out provisions for the trip and arranging a pack for 
Danger to carry, we spent the rest of the time about 
Nahanni House. It consisted of nothing but a small log 
cabin used for a store; a small log warehouse, and another 
cabin which Lewis occupied. Jim Grew, who had con- 
structed a small cabin across the river for head-quarters 
while trapping during the winter, had charge of the post 
during Lewis's absence. He was over seventy-five years 
old and had served at different Hudson Bay trading posts 
all the way from Labrador to the Pacific. Though still 
active, he was too old for the hard work necessary for 
successful trapping; nevertheless he could not depart from 
his old life, and chose to die in the wilderness. His life 
was a mere existence, and three years later he was found 
dead in a cabin on the MacMillan. Dan McKinnon, his 
partner, was occupying Grew's cabin. Van Bibber, a 
stalwart fellow brought up in the mountains of Kentucky, 
was there to meet his partner, Van Gorda, and with him 
was a young Indian boy from Liard Post. These two 
men had wintered in the vicinity of the Pelly Lakes, and 

had planned to return there. 

194 



THE PELLY MOUNTAINS 195 

July 23. — The whole month of July had been exceed- 
ingly dry and very hot. The next day was no exception. 
Many Indians had come to our camp for the purpose of 
seeing the horse, which aroused intense interest among 
them. That morning three appeared very early and 
watched us throw the pack on Danger. So great was 
their astonishment to see him walk off with a pack of two 
hundred pounds, that they followed us for three miles 
and showed us an Indian trail which led to the Lapie 
River, six miles above its mouth. 

For the first five miles we travelled slowly, in a north- 
ward direction, crossing some heavily timbered ridges, 
often pausing to chop trees and brush, until we descended 
to a fairly level country sparsely timbered with spruces, 
poplars, and willows. After crossing seven miles through 
this, we came out upon a high bench rising directly from 
the Lapie. Through the valley of the river, which there 
emerges from a box cafion, I could see the interior Pelly 
ranges and the snowy peaks of the divide. As we were 
descending the bench to the river, the familiar chatter of 
the ground-squirrel greeted us. We slept near the brawl- 
ing river, under a clear sky, and the noise of the current 
brought back many reminiscences of my trip up Coal 
Creek. 

The Lapie River, so named by Dr. Dawson after one 
of the faithful Indian companions of Campbell, who 
first discovered it on his initial trip down the Pelly, enters 
the Pelly ten miles below the Ross. Its character is 
strictly similar to that of Coal Creek, but it carries a 
much larger volume of water — so large, in fact, that at 



196 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

the stage when I was there in both July and August, there 
was not a single fording place anywhere within fifty miles 
from its mouth. Through that distance it descends at 
the rate of thirty feet to the mile. From its source in the 
divide ranges, it flows in a north-east direction; its length 
is between eighty and a hundred miles; its width for the 
last forty miles, from seventy to a hundred feet, becoming 
narrower above. 

July 24-26. — For the next three days the travelling 
was exactly like that on the upper reaches of Coal Creek, 
except that we were obliged to keep on the left bank, for 
even if a ford could have been found, it would not have 
been practicable to have taken a horse along the other 
side, because of continuous ridges sloping precipitously 
to the river. When we had travelled about twenty miles, 
the high, rough mountains completely engulfed us. The 
main divide was not more than twenty or thirty miles far- 
ther on in a straight line, and a fine large tributary, flow- 
ing from extremely rugged mountains more to the south- 
west — perfect sheep ranges — entered the Lapie a short 
distance north of the divide. I decided to ascend this 
branch to timber-line and make my camp. Timber-line 
was twelve miles distant, and nine hundred feet above 
that part of the Lapie. Moose tracks had been abundant 
along the bars of the river, nearly all going down stream, 
but their trails were not so well defined as those on Coal 
Creek. Rabbits, ground-squirrels, and red squirrels were 
plentiful, bear signs scarce, and bird life almost absent, 
except for golden eagles, Alaska jays, ravens, and gos- 
hawks. The weather was fair, and there were no mosqui- 



THE PELLY MOUNTAINS 197 

toes — a most singular fact, which can only be accounted 
for by the extreme dryness of the season. I cannot for- 
get the last tramp up the branch between lofty slopes 
topped by cliffs and jagged crest-lines, the magnificent 
mountains close by on both sides fairly hanging over us, 
as we climbed around caiions through which the creek 
dashed in cascades over precipices and roared through 
deep gorges, until we reached the limit of the timber. 
There, where two forks join, each flowing from moun- 
tain-girdled basins, we made camp in the big spruces 
near the bank of the chattering stream. 

Among all the spots in which I have ever camped, 
that was one of the most enchanting. The hard, dry 
ground was cushioned with spruce needles. Some of the 
spruces with big, gnarled trunks spread their dark-green 
foliage in canopy-tops, ornamented with thick clusters 
of hanging cones. Most of them shot up spires, their 
pointed tops giving the country that wild desolation so 
characteristic of the northern wilderness. Many inclined 
at sharp angles over the creek in graceful contrast, pleas- 
antly breaking the austere straight lines of the forest, and 
producing a bowery effect above the splashing current 
as it raced in serpentine course down the valley. 

Directly in front was the rolling basin of the South 
Fork, surrounded by a jumble of high peaks reared above 
snow-striped slopes, all the blending colors of their 
rocky surfaces in sharp contrast with the bright green of 
the upper reaches of the basin below, while numerous 
water-falls, pierced by the sun's rays, as they dashed down 
the slopes, gleamed in different tints. 



198 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

The mountains around the basins of the East Fork, 
perhaps smoother in outHne, were equally high, and even 
richer in color. 

Behind, almost overhanging the camp, reared up a 
long, high, savage range of limestone and granite; its 
slopes carved into caiions and precipices; its crests ser- 
rated in rising and falling outlines, trimmed with radiating 
buttresses, spired peaks, and bands of snow, richer in con- 
trasting colors than any of the other ranges observed in 
the Pelly Mountains. 

But these inspiring views were near. Beyond, stretched 
a bewildering sea of summits, the more distant ones fading 
to the sight and suggesting the mysterious unknown. 

The evening light glowed in the sky as we threw the 
load off the tired horse and made a fire. Luminous banks 
of burning crimson clouds hung over the summits of the 
South Fork; the sky in the east was cold and gray, while 
the light rays of the sun, then sunken below the nearer 
mountains, failed to reach the valley, then overspread 
with a deep purple hue, in sombre contrast to the brill- 
iantly lighted mountains beyond. We did not attempt to 
erect the shelter that night, but slept beneath the spruces. 

July 27. — Early in the morning I started off to obtain, 
if possible, a supply of meat for camp. 

No description of the Pelly Mountains has ever been 
written. When Dr. Dawson spoke of them as dome- 
shaped granitic masses, smoother to the west, more ser- 
rated to the east, covered with a small herbaceous growth, 
slopes and peaks extremely uniform, shaped by normal 
processes of denudation, he was necessarily judging from 



THE PELLY MOUNTAINS 199 

the appearance of the outer range as observed from the 
Pelly River. 

Once inside the outside range, they present an entirely 
different appearance, and it becomes clear that the 
denudation has not reached such an advanced stage. 

The Pelly Mountains may be somewhat loosely defined 
as a group extending from the valley of the upper Liard 
in a north-west trend of crest outlines to the Orchay 
River, where they swing westward toward the Rose River. 
A gap of twenty miles of low ridges connects them with 
the Glenlyons, which may be considered as an interrup- 
ted continuation of the Pellys. 

The series of parallel ranges extends through a width 
of from thirty to perhaps fifty miles, the peaks rising 
above sea-level from five to eight thousand feet. 

They were formed by erosion from an uplifted plateau, 
and although a general trend can be detected, the ranges 
are so intersected by others, equally high, that it may be 
more proper to call them a complex, rather than a well- 
defined series. 

In appearance they are more similar to the Ogilvie 
ranges than any other mountain group I have seen in 
the north. But in general they are higher, bolder, more 
irregular, and rougher; the valleys and canons are deeper, 
the crests hold more snow during the summer, the rivers 
draining them are larger in volume. 

Timber-line, about 4,500 feet, is higher, and willow 
and dwarf-birch grow so much more densely on the lower 
slopes that all the mountains are more difficult to climb 
than those of the Ogilvies. Nature has carved the Pellys 



200 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

in more rugged outlines than those of the Ogilvies, and 
has given to them the same rich, contrasting colorations. 
It has carved even more beautiful basins among them, 
and filled them with the same kind of exquisite crystal 
lakes fed by melting snow. The same richly colored flora 
carpets the slopes. 

I was about to climb among these wonderful, moun- 
tains, and keeping close to the creek which headed in the 
east basin, where numerous graylings lay at the bottom 
of the pools, I saw, floating down among the riffles, two 
harlequin ducks, those exquisite creatures which adorn 
the dancing mountain creeks. The dense willow brush 
and dwarf-birches so impeded walking that it required 
an hour to go two and a half miles to the head of the 
basin. It was hot and sultry and a light haze hung 
about the crests. Again I was walking over emerald- 
green pastures in an amphitheatre of mountains, with 
ground-squirrels running about in all directions, while 
above me two golden eagles wheeled in flight. 

Beginning to climb a mountain on the west side of the 
basin, I was surprised to see a chipmunk picking up some 
kind of morsels among the rocks. Soon I was cheered 
by reaching a sheep-trail leading up the slope, and, fol- 
lowing it, I at length reached the top, 6,900 feet altitude, 
according to my barometer. 

For the first time the glories of the Pellys were spread 
out before me — high, ragged ranges shooting up into the 
sky in all directions, the vision lost in a sea of peaks. No 
wind, not even a distant sound disturbed the silence. 

The western face of the mountain fell in sheer cliffs 




LOOKI.NX, UP THE LAPIE RIVER, JuLY 25. 




'The glories of the Pellys were spread out before me." July 27. 



THE PELLY MOUNTAINS 201 

for two thousand feet, the whole wall studded with cas- 
tellated pillars of rock projecting upward from it; while 
below was an exquisite cliff-bound basin containing a 
shining lake. 

A mile and a half across the basin was the crest of a 
mountain, below which was a cornice of snow covering 
about an acre and extending down a steep slope. As 
I turned my field-glasses along the crest, a grizzly bear 
standing on the sky-line just above the snow, came into 
view. The bear, high on the mountain-crest, outlined 
against the sky, presented a wonderful picture of wild 
life in a stupendous landscape. 

It soon jumped over into the snow, walked back and 
forth several times, then lay down about thirty feet from 
the edge and appeared like a small, black spot. Shortly 
I saw, not a hundred yards distant to the right, in line 
with the snow, a band of twenty sheep feeding indiffer- 
ently, though they had often looked toward the snow at 
the time when the bear had been moving. It was too 
hazy to clearly distinguish their horns, but I thought 
they were rams. Since it would have required many 
hours to descend and make the wide circuit necessary to 
climb, unseen by them, I did not attempt it, but watched 
them. 

In half an hour they started single file directly for 
the snow, and to my complete astonishment walked up 
on it, not twenty feet from the sleeping bear. Eight that 
were ahead paused in the snow, apparently looking at the 
bear; then all slowly walked on over the snow and dis- 
appeared on the other side of the crest. Stranger still, 



202 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

as the first sheep came upon the snow, I saw the bear's 
head rise up, until, as they stood still, it went down and 
the bear remained asleep long after they had gone over 
the crest. 

After eating some lunch, I followed the sheep-trail 
for some distance along the crest, when I saw on an 
opposite mountain, separated from the one on which I 
was walking by a deep, narrow valley, a large band of 
sheep feeding well up the side. I counted about eighty 
in all, mostly ewes and lambs, with a few small rams. 
Descending over the steep, broken rock talus to a ridge, 
I walked along it until the sheep were not more than five 
hundred yards distant in a straight line across the valley, 
and, concealing myself among the rocks, I watched them. 
Some were feeding, some lying down. About ten three- 
year-old rams kept together, slightly separated from the 
rest. A hundred yards above was an old ewe lying on 
the slope, keeping an alert watch both up and down. In 
half an hour, when another old ewe walked up to her, 
she rose and went down to feed among the others, while 
the ewe above lay down to replace her as the "sentinel" 
to protect the band. 

As the "sentinel"! Never was the posting of guards 
better illustrated; and what a positive conclusion one 
could have drawn if not especially aroused to continue 
watching and observing! Half an hour passed, while the 
sheep below were feeding, resting, always alert, and on 
the lookout for danger; the lambs were nursing and frisk- 
ing. Then the "sentinel" rose, descended, and mingled 
with the others, leaving none on guard in her place! 



THE PELLY MOUNTAINS 203 

Thus entirely unprotected they continued feeding, until 
the lengthening shadows warned them of evening, and 
they slowly fed upward toward the crest to lie down for 
the night. During all the time that I watched them, the 
lambs kept playing, chasing each other, butting, and run- 
ning back and forth. 

I was so close that through my glasses the colors 
of all the sheep were clearly discernible, and I carefully 
made notes In the small note-book which I carried. 
The majority of them were nearly of the same type as 
that of some of the Stone sheep killed on the Sheslay 
River north of Telegraph Creek on the Stikine, the skins 
of which are In the American Museum of Natural His- 
tory in New York. From a short distance, the heads 
appeared perfectly white, the bodies light gray, interme- 
diate in color between typical Ovis stonei and the saddle- 
backed sheep, so-called Ovis fannini. None had necks 
as dark as typical Ovis stonei, a few would be classed as 
Ovis fannini. Four were almost as white as the light 
colored sheep killed on the MacMIllan. Several had 
lambs strictly resembling their mother in color. Four of 
the darkest ewes had white lambs. Three of the whitest 
ewes had very dark lambs. One dark ewe had two 
lambs, one white, one dark. The saddle-backed ewes had 
lambs, singly and in pairs, varying in all shades of color 
from whitish to very dark. 

I was a long distance from camp and It was not 
possible to stalk the sheep without descending on the 
other side to the foot of the mountains, so that I could 
climb around the other mountain in a course which would 



204 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

keep me hidden from their sight. But since many days 
might elapse before rams could be found and meat had 
to be obtained as quickly as possible, I made the descent 
and began a circling ascent of the mountain. After three 
hours of slow and tiresome work, I was near the crest 
and carefully circled for the purpose of establishing the 
position of the sheep. At length, about to come in view 
of the place where I hoped to find them, I crawled flat 
on my stomach, and lifting my head saw all standing, 
banded closely together, about a hundred and fifty yards 
opposite me. About to lie down, they were taking one 
last look below. A large ewe stood a few feet to the 
right, and not caring to fire into the band, I aimed at 
her, and, fortunately, hit her in the heart. The whole 
band, led by a large ewe, at once dashed wildly along the 
slope and disappeared over the steep, almost vertical walls 
that flanked the slope slightly beyond. The ewe had no 
milk, and therefore no lamb. Her head was pure white 
and the grayish pattern was so subdued that the color 
could be compared most closely with the darkest speci- 
men I had killed in the Ogilvies. 

It was nearly eleven in the night; twilight color had 
overspread the landscape; the peaks distant to the west 
were still illumined with rosy light caught from the fad- 
ing sun. Taking the hind quarters with as much extra 
meat as could be carried, I staggered downward to the 
foot, kindled a small fire, and made tea, which greatly 
refreshed me. I then shouldered the load and more 
rapidly went down the sloping pastures of the basin, 
until I plunged into the dense brush. It was among the 



THE PELLY MOUNTAINS 205 

dark hours that I toiled through the willows, and broad 
daylight again when I walked into camp at 3.30 in the 
morning. But we had a supply of meat; I had once 
more been high among the mountains; the sight of 
mountain-sheep and that of a grizzly bear had set glow- 
ing my love of the wilderness; I had again heard the 
chatter of the squirrel and the whistle of the marmot. 

The shelter had been erected, and old Danger was 
peacefully lying before it, near the dead fire. Jeffries 
jumped up, and almost shouted when he saw the fat 
mutton. The fire was soon blazing and nothing less 
than as much meat as could be crowded into a big deep 
frying-pan satisfied his craving for it. 



CHAPTER XIV 

HUNTING RAMS— 1905 

July 28. — After a few hours of sleep I was awakened 
by the loud clucking of a ptarmigan close to the shelter, 
and soon heard the peeping of the scattered chicks, which 
were hurriedly gathering about her. Several ground- 
squirrels, whose holes were very near the camp, were 
running about or sitting up and chattering. Jeffries had 
started the fire and prepared another great quantity of 
meat, most of which he consumed with the eagerness of 
a starving man During the morning I remained in camp 
to arrange everything in order. 

After lunch I started for the mountain south-east of 
camp, and in two and a half hours succeeded in reaching 
the crest. Looking through my field-glasses along the 
slopes of the rough mountain behind the camp, I could 
see seven sheep which were too distant to make out the 
sex. Proceeding along the crest I reached the highest 
peak, seven thousand five hundred and fifty feet in alti- 
tude. A sheep-trail followed the ridge-roof of the crest, 
and a few old tracks of ewes and lambs were there. I 
heard one cony, and saw two rock ptarmigan. Mists 
bringing light showers of rain, all gathering exclusively 
around the mountain on which I stood, continually 

floated by and enveloped me, while to the south-west the 

206 




'In front of them were piled precipice upon precipice. 

From a painting by Carl Rungius. 



[Pasre s/j] 



HUNTING RAMS 207 

sky was clear, and I reached the head of the basin just 
as the sun was sinking. 

Massed around the basin were gothic-spired ranges 
whose peaks fell in vertical cliffs many hundreds of feet 
to the steeply inclined talus which led to the soft, green 
pastures below. The serried crests, marbled with snow, 
burning with red, iron-stained rock, glowing with granites, 
caught the sunlight and were bathed in a rosy hue, while 
numerous little rainbows, formed in the spray of the 
small cataracts that dashed over the precipices, reflected 
their brilliant colors in contrast to the dark rocks and 
shadowed area below. 

I had gone several miles and had not seen a sheep 
since my field-glasses had revealed those on the mountain 
behind camp. Descending to the upper reaches of the 
basin, which contained several small lakes, I started down 
the creek toward camp. In forcing my way through the 
dripping willows which covered a valley a mile or more 
wide, I found many shed horns of moose. The valleys 
in the Pelly Mountains are filled with willows, all of 
which had been cropped by moose, a fact Indicating that 
later in the fall and early winter when they come up from 
the lowlands to browse in the higher country the whole 
region is a magnificent moose range. 

While passing through these willows, I flushed at 
least ten broods of ptarmigan, and saw several harlequin 
ducks floating with the current of the creek. I was 
thoroughly soaked before reaching camp at midnight, 
when Jeffries was aroused from sleep and given another 
chance to eat a large quantity of meat. 



2o8 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

July 29. — Early In the morning I climbed a little knoll 
near-by and through my field-glasses, scanned the range 
behind. Two miles to the north-west, near the top of the 
smoother portion of a high spur which projected out from 
the slope, I saw twelve sheep, and more careful Inspection 
revealed their spiral horns. Rams found so quickly! 
Hastening a mile down the creek to a point where a good 
view of the spur could be obtained, I seated myself to 
make a study of the situation. The spur, a high butte 
with two cone-shaped peaks rearing up from Its grassy sur- 
face, was connected with the mountain by a knife-blade 
ridge rising almost vertically to a group of crags a few feet 
below the dominating peak — the highest in the vicinity. 

Three of the rams were feeding near a fourth, which 
was lying down In front of the outside peak; three others 
were lying on the saddle between the peaks, two of them 
facing in opposite directions; five more feeding near them 
on the face of the spur, and one was lying down half-way 
up on the Inside peak. There was no method of approach 
except in plain sight of the rams, and I waited for two or 
three hours in the hope that they would move to a posi- 
tion favorable for a stalk. Among them I noticed only 
three rams with large horns. They passed the time in- 
differently, feeding and resting, and though moving lazily, 
each kept constantly looking about — never neglecting the 
habit of alert watchfulness. No sentinel was posted at 
any time. 

While I was waiting, a mile to the right along the 
slope appeared two rams travelling rapidly, now walking, 
now running, in the direction of the band. By observing 



HUNTING RAMS 209 

their horns, I judged one to be five years old, the other, 
two or three. At first I thought they were detached 
members of the band hurrying back to join it. But reach- 
ing the spur they caught sight of the sheep above, ap- 
proached cautiously to within a hundred yards and 
stopped, as all the rams jumped up and watched them. 
Several times they circled about the band without ap- 
proaching nearer, while the rams in the band appeared 
to assume a threatening attitude. Finally they passed 
the band without attempting to enter it, and disappeared 
around the slope. 

Repeated observations of the habits of sheep in later 
years gives me a clue to the actions of these two rams. 
They were members of another band of rams living in 
another part of the ranges, and having been separated 
by fright, or for some other reason, were probably trying 
to regain their own band, composed of members with 
which they had been born and reared. Bands of sheep 
have a strong tendency to exclude foreign members, and 
it is only after a single sheep or two have hovered about 
another band for days, sometimes even for weeks, that 
its members relax and admit the outsiders on terms of 
intimacy. 

Once a hen ptarmigan came through the dwarf-birch 
within three feet of me, while her chicks surrounded me 
as I sat motionless, until the mother, becoming suspicious, 
began to cluck, when all the chicks ran to her and she 
withdrew into the bush. The curiosity of the ground- 
squirrels was aroused, for several came almost to my feet, 
and after sitting up and chattering at me, quickly scam- 



210 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

pered away. Several Alaska jays flew about me and sat 
in the trees near-by, evidently waiting for some of the spoils 
that human beings usually provide for them. 

At two in the afternoon, all the sheep slowly fed over 
the top of the spur and were lost to sight. At once I 
began to follow the plan worked out while waiting, and 
started to make the ascent of a high promontory pro- 
truding from a mountain opposite the spur and separated 
from it by a deep canon, the head of which I might be 
able to climb around, and, If possible, cross the face of 
the spur and stalk the sheep if they should be feeding 
on the other side. In an hour I had ascended far 
enough to see that the ground at the head of the canon 
was too precipitous to traverse. The only alternative 
was to find a way to the bottom of the canon and ascend 
the slope of the spur to the two peaks. This Involved 
great risk of frightening the sheep, for if they should be 
feeding on the other side near the top, now and then, 
according to their habits, one or another would probably 
come back to Inspect the opposite side. In which case I 
would surely be observed. But knowing that the next 
day they might be far away, I decided to take the chance, 
and after much difficulty reached the bottom of the canon 
and climbed up a notch In the opposite wall to some 
willows through which. In half an hour, I had fought my 
way, reaching a smooth, grassy slope that led steeply 
upward between the peaks. No sheep had re-appeared 
above, so I began to ascend slowly and cautiously, know- 
ing that at any moment a ram might suddenly appear 
on the summit and see me if I was moving. 



HUNTING RAMS 211 

Step by step I advanced, keeping as low as convenient, 
stopping every few feet and lying flat, always intently 
watching the crest above. My caution was increased 
as I came within rifle-shot of the top, and with rifle 
cocked, ready to fire at any ram that might appear, I 
finally reached a point within a few feet of the crest. 
There I rested a few moments to get my breath and 
steady my nerves. Then, creeping forward over the top, 
I slowly raised my head and looked over. Not a ram 
was visible. A succession of rocky walls, broken and 
rugged, jutting out in a curve from the spur, obstructed 
the view toward the mountain. Retiring from the sky- 
line, I went a short distance around the outside cone and, 
creeping forward, again looked over. I could then see 
the whole area below, but no rams were there. The slope 
fell to a creek, on the opposite side of which sheer cliffs 
rose up to the rocky debris covering the side of the moun- 
tain. I knew that the rams had ascended and were some- 
where near the higher crest above. 

But one resource was left, and that was to climb the 
rim of the spur to the highest peak of the mountain. 
From there it would not be difficult to clamber along the 
crest and possibly find the rams in a place favorable for 
stalking. 

That ascent of fifteen hundred feet I shall never for- 
get. The connecting roof-ridge was so narrow that for 
most of the distance it was not more than a foot or two 
wide. The view in the direction of the sheep was cut 
oflf by projecting crags. On either side sheer precipices 
or confused vertical masses of sculptured rock fell several 



212 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

hundred feet to the inclined surface below. The knife- 
edge, however, had been carved by the elements — 
eroded just enough so that small, sharp projections of 
rock, like an Irregular series of teeth, protruded and 
provided a foothold. Slinging my rifle over my back 
and holding on the sharp nodules of rock above I toiled 
upward on this rough ladder-like precipitous path. I 
had started at four, and It was six p. m. when I reached 
the base of the pyramidal peak which rose fifty feet 
above the crest-line. The altitude was seven thousand 
eight hundred feet — more than five thousand feet above 
camp. 

There I rested for a few moments. Not a sound 
reached my ears except the tinkling of the rills trickling 
down from the snow. A stupendous mountain panorama 
surrounded me. When my breath was regained, and 
the excitement, owing to the danger of the climb was 
subdued, I started to creep along the narrow rocky crest 
which, twenty feet farther on, was so abruptly broken 
that I could not see beyond. After going ten feet on my 
knees, I saw a pair of horns perfectly motionless, a hun- 
dred and fifty yards ahead and slightly below. Nothing 
more, but I knew that a ram was below them. Stretch- 
ing on my stomach, foot by foot I crawled ten feet to 
the edge of the break, where I was thoroughly concealed 
by a crag rising three feet above the surface and falling 
perpendicularly to the crest below. Carefully moving 
my head to the side of the rock, I looked down. There 
were the twelve rams a hundred yards away, all lying 
down without any suspicion of the enemy who now had 



HUNTING RAMS 213 

them at his mercy. All were facing in the same direc- 
tion, looking down the slope up which they had ascended. 
Below, at the bottom of the valley, was the winding 
creek, gleaming through the dark green of the spruces. 
In front of them were piled precipice upon precipice. 
They were at the edge of a brink which behind them fell 
fifty feet to a desolate basin of shattered rock filled with 
boulders and surrounded with turreted cliffs and craggy 
buttresses. 

Their mixed colors were those common to the sheep 
of the region, the dark ones predominating; their heads, 
with the exception of three, were white. Each main- 
tained an alert watch both in front and along the crest 
opposite to me. They kept jerking their heads to fasten 
their piercing gaze in those directions only; no danger 
could come from behind without their hearing it; the 
peak was in my direction, where they evidently felt safe 
from approach. I was facing the sun and could not 
take a photograph. Only three of the rams had large 
horns, the rest varying in age from five to three years. 

Lying on my stomach and resting my rifle along my 
arm on the side of the rock, I fired at the ram which 
appeared to have the largest horns. At the crack of the 
rifle all jumped up and for a moment stood in wild con- 
fusion. The bullet had apparently gone true, for the 
ram simply stiffened out without rising and died. But 
another of the rams with large horns was holding his 
head in the air, his lower jaw falling loosely and bleeding. 
He suddenly dashed over the precipice, followed by the 
third with large horns, and by two small rams. Some- 



214 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

how reaching the foot, they again came in sight and 
dashed across the broken rock under some cHflFs by my 
right, where they were lost to sight. Not hearing any 
more sounds of their running and knowing that they 
were standing, I remained perfectly still. The rest con- 
tinued to stand and look, jerking their heads in all direc- 
tions except toward me. None had even suspected the 
direction of the shot. 

I watched the cliff for about three minutes, until a 
ram with large horns suddenly appeared, running down 
the slope. When a hundred yards distant, he stopped, 
long enough to receive a bullet in his heart. Then I 
heard a clatter of hoofs on the cliff, and saw the ram with 
the broken jaw leap on the top and stand on the sky- 
line looking in the direction of the last ram I had killed. 
As I shot, he fell over the wall of the cliff and caught in 
a rift near the foot, where he remained doubled up and 
almost suspended. The other three had descended to 
the band, which, having run for a few hundred yards, had 
scattered and stood looking, not even then having located 
the direction of the shots. 

Sitting on the rock, I rested and smoked my pipe. 
Three hard-earned trophies were before me. Under such 
circumstances, among mountain-crests, when the pulse 
bounds and the whole being is exhilarated by the intensely 
vitalizing air, while the senses, stimulated by the vigorous 
exercise of a dangerous climb and the sustained excite- 
ment of the stalk, are attuned to the highest pitch of 
appreciation of the Alpine panorama, there is no state of 
exaltation more sublime than that immediately following 




"He stopped long enough to receive a bullet in his heart," July 29. 




"He remained doubled up and almost suspended," July 29 



HUNTING RAMS 215 

the climax of a day's successful hunt for the noble moun- 
tain ram. 

A heavy wind suddenly swept by and dark threaten- 
ing clouds began to gather directly above me. Hastening 
down the ledge, I found a niche in the side of a splin- 
tered wall which fell sheer a thousand feet to the ragged 
surface of the slope below. By edging along on a pro- 
truding shelf of rock I reached it and comfortably stowed 
myself under its protection, facing the rough-hewn peaks 
of the western ranges fading in the far horizon, while 
the sun, about to sink behind them, appeared like a big, 
crimson globe. 

The clouds above grew black, lightning flashed along 
the crest, peals of thunder reverberated among the high- 
walled precipices, and after a heavy rain, great balls of 
hail half an inch in diameter fell in myriads, rattling and 
bounding among the rocks, rolling down the precipitous 
slopes, lodging in crevices and on projecting rocks, and 
speckling white the broken surface of the mountain. 
The storm was local and directly overhead. The sky to 
the west was clear. Through a canopy of darkness could 
be seen the shadowed valley of the Lapie, in strong con- 
trast with the rugged snow-striped ranges beyond, whose 
snowy peaks, rising under a clear sky and gilded by the 
sun, were rosy gold set in delicate, floating clouds of pink. 

Nature concentrated all her wrath in a short space of 
time. After the hail, the clouds broke away, leaving a 
steel-gray sky overhead. 

I quickly photographed the first ram, and finding a 
route down the precipice, photographed the others and 



2i6 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

then took the entire skin of the second. This was much 
whiter than the others — whiter than the type of Ovis 
fannifii. Both the others were darker and approached 
more closely the type of Ovis stonei. The neck of the 
light one was pure white, those of the others were so full 
of dark hairs as to have a more grayish appearance. 

Before the skin was off the rain began again. Stowing 
both the skin and the head in my riicksack and ascending 
to the crest, I struggled down the slope and reached camp 
late at night. 

July 30. — Early in the morning, while I was preparing 
the head and fleshing the skin, Jefferies looked back on 
the mountain-side and saw two sheep. Through my 
field-glasses, I saw that they were the same two young 
rams which had passed in the opposite direction the day 
before. They had not found their band, and were slowly 
returning along the same slope. 

After hanging the skin, we drank some tea and set 
out for the dead rams, toiling slowly up the slope I had 
descended the night before. Old bear diggings were 
everywhere, but the bear which had been seen on the 
snow-bank was the only one observed in the Felly Moun- 
tains. Looking up we saw two golden eagles circling in 
the air above the carcasses. 

Reaching the dead rams we learned the cause of the 
shattering of the lower jaw of the last ram killed the day 
before — a fact that had puzzled me. When I fired the 
first shot, the three large rams were lying close together, 
and the sun, shining directly in my eyes, had so confused 
my vision that, in aiming at the shoulder of the first ram, 




"The ram simply stiffenkd out without rising and died," July 29. 




"Niche in the side of a splintered wall," July 29. 



HUNTING RAMS 217 

I had not perceived that the muzzle of another ram inter- 
vened. The bullet, passing through the lower jaw, had 
split in nine fragments, all of which penetrated the 
shoulder region of the ram at which I was aiming. Three 
of the pieces had passed through the heart and lungs, 
tearing large holes, and were lodged under the skin on 
the other side. At some time during its life that ram 
had broken a foreleg, and I noticed that it had been 
well joined and healed, though a large bunch remained 
about the fracture. 

It was after seven in the evening when the last skin 
was off. Jefferies having tied both skins and heads in a 
pack, shouldered them, while I carried the hind quarters 
of another. It required three hours to stagger down the 
mountains and reach camp. 

July 31. — The next day was spent preparing the skins 
and skulls and constructing a suitable framework under 
the trees, on which they could be hung to dry. The 
horns of all were of the narrow type, the widest not spread- 
ing over nineteen inches, and in the order killed their ages 
were seven, nine, and ten years, respectively. The food 
contents of their stomachs were the same as those of all 
the sheep I have ever killed in subarctic regions during 
the summer — a variety of young, tender weeds, particu- 
larly those of Dryas and mountain cranberry, scarcely 
any grass, and bits of lichens taken incidentally when 
cropping deep for the tender growth. 

That day Alaska jays visited our camp for the first 
time, and after picking up a few pieces of meat, departed. 
During the three weeks we remained there, this was the 



2i8 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

only time when the jays, which were as abundant in that 
locality as elsewhere in the north, came about the camp. 
I have camped in other places, in both Yukon Territory 
and Alaska, where jays did not come to camp, but such 
absences are most exceptional. We had set out numbers of 
traps for mice, both in the woods and in the higher coun- 
try, but not a mouse did we catch during all the time we 
were there, nor did I see any fresh signs. It was a season 
when nearly all the mice in that locality had disappeared. 
In those happy days among the Felly Mountains, a 
shadow was constantly playing over my exuberant spirits 
— the thought of the inevitable fate of the good horse 
Danger. Gentle, strong, and of good sense, he was 
naturally dependent on some kind of companionship. 
Far in the wilds, surrounded by woods, where the breezes 
often wafted to his delicate nostrils the air tainted with 
the odor of animals terrifying to him, he had become 
completely dependent on our near presence, except when 
he was obliged to stray off to feed. At intervals through 
the day he would wander about in search of good grass, 
but immediately after satisfying his hunger he would 
hasten back to camp, and after standing in the smoke of 
the fire to rid himself of flies would lie down in his hol- 
low, three feet to the right of the shelter front. Although 
he continually begged for bits of bread and sugar, he de- 
veloped none of those thieving habits so common among 
horses living in that country. Whenever I met him in the 
woods, after satisfying himself of my reality, he would 
trot up and follow me back to camp. He had become 
like an affectionate dog. 




Camp in the Pellys, Tom Jefferies, July 28. 




"Standing in the smoke of the fire to rid himself of flies." Jefferies under 

the shelter, August i. 



HUNTING RAMS 219 

I was much Interested to observe his keen senses of 
hearing and smell, which were fully as acute as those of 
the wild animals of the woods. When at a distance from 
camp he was as alert as any of them. Many times, when 
from an elevation I saw him feeding, I would try to 
approach unheard, but not even a moose could have 
detected me sooner than he did. When in a favorable 
wind he always scented me from a long distance, and 
Jefferies used to know of my approach to camp wholly 
by Danger s actions long before human ears could hear 
any sounds of footsteps. If one loves a horse, there is no 
situation where that affection can be so intensely bestowed 
as on the single animal far off in the wilderness where it 
seeks companionship in its master more dependently than 
anywhere else. After the trip, Danger must be shot — 
the only alternative was starvation. 

August I. — Very early the next morning I was pushing 
through willows on my way to climb the east part of the 
mountain behind camp, hoping that other rams might 
be found there. No clouds were in the sky, but a haze 
hung over the mountains and the wind was strongly 
blowing. In that direction a succession of spurs extended 
out from the mountains, enclosing large areas where 
rams might be feeding. One of the spurs sloped down 
to a high dome-shaped ridge, which I ascended nearly 
to the top, and keeping below the sky-line went around 
the dome to get a look on the other side. 

The two stray rams I had seen before were lying down 
near the top, about two hundred yards to the left. Crawl- 
ing behind some dwarf-birch bushes, I watched them 



220 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

through my field-glasses. Both were very light colored. 
The wind was blowing directly from me to them and 
although I was smoking my pipe, they showed no signs 
of alarm. After half an hour they rose and passed over 
the top. Then I went forward to photograph them, but 
just before arriving on the summit, expecting to see them 
at any moment below it, I heard sounds of their running 
and saw them fifty yards away rushing up toward the 
spur. At a hundred yards they stopped and gazed at me 
and then slowly walked upward, continually pausing to 
turn and look, until reaching the sky-line, where they fol- 
lowed the crest and were soon lost to sight. Were those 
rams frightened by my scent ? It is possible. There was 
also no reason why they should not have been frightened 
by it long before. The sun was behind me and, standing 
my rifle upright on the surface, I went back and noticed 
its shadow extending down the slope. I had been care- 
less about my shadow, and it is quite possible that they 
had been scared by it when I was moving. 

I made a long, arduous ascent of the spur and toiled 
upward to the crest. Near that end, ice had once carved 
the mountain more irregularly than it had toward the 
west. The rock had been sculptured in rougher fashion, 
the cliffs being all splintered and buttressed by narrow 
walls hewn in fantastic shapes, while the jagged crest was 
battlemented with imposing pinnacles. After reaching 
the crest, I seated myself and scanned the country through 
my field-glasses. The next spur to the east projected 
from the crest in a narrow, vertically inclined wall extend- 
ing five hundred feet to a short, smooth, grassy saddle. 



HUNTING RAMS 221 

which connected it to the mountain. The spur had a 
ragged crest topping rough, steep slopes fluted by canons 
almost as deep as those of the big mountain. In fact, 
that spur was more like a separate independent mountain. 
As the saddle came into the field of my glasses, three 
sheep suddenly appeared, one very dark, the other two 
much lighter. I watched them closely until the dark one 
threw up its head and displayed curling horns, apparently 
very large. Big rams again ! 

It was not possible to go around the crest and descend 
along the ridge without being seen by them. The only 
alternative was to descend to the foot of the mountain, 
cross the basin below, and then climb the spur on its 
south slope. But then my approach might be announced 
by the wind, which would be blowing directly from me 
to the rams. Without hesitation I chose to face their 
noses rather than their eyes, and began the long zigzag 
descent, which was not accomplished until noon. Thor- 
oughly concealed at the foot of the spur, half a mile 
south of the rams, I sought the bottom of a cafion falling 
down the slope, found a clump of willows, made a small 
fire, and after refreshing myself with tea and bread 
climbed directly up the bottom of the cafion. Several 
times while descending the other mountain I had watched 
the rams, and at each view the horns of the dark ram 
appeared bigger. Once a golden eagle circled around 
them. How many times have I envied the eagle as it 
soared along the crests and above the woods and valleys, 
observing the animal life below from near or far! 

It was a long, difficult climb, now clambering over 



222 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

huge boulders, now scaling little cliffs, again toiling on 
over the loose, broken rock; but at last I was near the 
crest, where a small spur jutted out. I was on a level 
with the rams, less than a third of a mile away, and a 
strong wind blew directly toward them. Going below 
the ridge of the spur, I looked over and saw the two large 
ones feeding in the same place and the other lying down, 
his head stretched out on the ground like that of a dog. 
After looking through my field-glasses, my eagerness be- 
came intense, for the dark ram had magnificent horns, 
appearing black and large. His companion also had 
fine horns, but those of the other were smaller. Inter- 
vening ridges jutting out from the spur made it impos- 
sible to form from my position any plan of approach- 
ing within shot. Dropping back below the sky-line, I 
climbed to the crest and slowly advanced, taking great 
care to observe as much of the area on the other side as 
possible, so that other rams which might be feeding there 
would not see me and give the alarm. Keeping a sharp 
lookout on all sides, I gradually came near enough to be 
convinced that no other rams were about and that the 
only remaining problem was to find a method of ap- 
proaching close enough for a reasonable shot. Taking 
advantage of another favorable projecting ridge, I crept 
forward and looked over. All were still feeding and the 
heavy, wrinkled horns of the dark ram, then seen plainly, 
made me realize more fully the prize I was stalking. 
After another slow advance along the crest, I went out 
some distance on the roof of a ridge, broken on one side 
by a precipice, and looked once more. I had to take 



HUNTING RAMS 223 

chances, since not yet had I found a method of approach. 
As I was proceeding, the dark ram suddenly appeared, 
feeding upward beyond the saddle, head to the ground, 
and my return to the crest was cut off unless attempted 
in plain sight. I noticed, however, a way to stalk close 
enough. Two hundred yards ahead, another ridge jut- 
ting out at right angles extended far enough to bring me 
opposite the rams if I could succeed in reaching it without 
disturbing them. 

From the time the rams had first been seen, not once, 
when I could see them, did one raise his head to look — 
a most exceptional thing. Lying flat on my stomach, I 
had to risk working back to the crest, and, foot by foot, 
all the time closely watching the ram, I wormed along 
and at last, to my great relief, succeeded in reaching a 
rock behind which I could keep out of sight until the crest 
was gained. 

Then began the increasing excitement of the final 
advance. Ahead, the buttressed cliff^s lifted up to the 
spired crest; on either side below were desolate, rock- 
filled basins and deep canons from whose depths sounded 
the subdued roar of the creeks; to my left, a rugged 
mountain reached twenty miles to the valley of the Lapie, 
and to my right continued a few miles to the smoother 
ranges around the basin; while behind, filling the horizon, 
were the Pelly ranges. All the colors were deepened under 
the soft haze which the sunlight tinted blue, and which gave 
to the mountain world a distant, mysterious grandeur. 

As I carefully walked ahead, the strong wind blowing 
from behind caused much anxiety. Then the loud, shrill 



224 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

whistle of a marmot made me shudder as I looked ahead 
and saw a mother and three young, sitting on a rock at 
the point where I was to turn off on the ridge. Twice 
they whistled before I reached the rock, when the mother 
plunged down in a hole at the foot, giving at the same 
time a final, loud whistle. The young quickly followed 
and I waited, fearing that the rams would appear run- 
ning up the mountain-side. For a few moments all was 
silence except the whistling of the wind around the rocks 
and the faint roar of the cascades in the caiions below. 

As I edged over on the ridge, other ground-squirrels 
began to chatter, still more increasing my excitement. 
Creeping on a steep slope just below the top, I slowly 
advanced to a point which seemed to be opposite the 
rams. The wind was then blowing without obstruction 
directly toward them, and holding my rifle cocked, I 
momentarily expected to see them dashing up in sight. 
Not twenty feet beyond them the spur connection was 
broken by a deep hollow, so that a few jumps upward 
would take them out of sight, where they could descend 
the slope and cross to the side of the mountain in safety. 
Crawling forward on my stomach, inch by inch, I raised 
my head and some distance to the left saw the lighter ram 
with good horns, feeding downward — a beautiful shot. 
The other two were not in sight. Dropping back and 
slowly worming along for fifty feet, I crawled forward 
and was carefully raising my head, when I suddenly saw 
the smallest ram, who was lying down on the opposite 
slope of the saddle, looking directly at me. By the alert- 
ness of his gaze I instantly recognized that, though un- 



HUNTING RAMS 225 

certain as to the nature of the object, he had seen me. 
At the same time I saw the horns of the two others who 
were lying down below facing me, the dark one with 
black, curling horns to the right. 

Almost instinctively I lowered my head, and turning 
on my back revolved in pivotal motion until my feet were 
ahead. Then quickly rising in sitting posture, elbows 
on knees, my rifle was pointed at the dark ram as it ap- 
peared in the line of vision. All three quickly elevated 
their heads with a jerk, but it was too late. Before they 
could rise I had aimed at the breast of the dark ram 
and the report echoed among the rocks as they all 
sprang to their feet. The responding whack of the bullet 
sounded before they began to dash upward, and I knew 
that it had gone true. The dark one attempted to follow 
but after five jumps fell dead. The others disappeared 
in the break, but soon reappeared on the opposite slope, 
which was one mass of protruding rocks and almost ver- 
tical. I sat motionless and watched them. While still 
within range of a long shot, they stopped and looked 
back, as if wondering why the leader did not follow. 
Then they ran upward in a series of jumps for a hundred 
feet and stopped again. This method of ascending was 
continued until they reached the crest, when again I had 
before me that wonderful sight of the mountain ram 
walking on the sky-line. I had noticed particularly their 
attitudes. The large one seemed to be all elasticity. 
His head was held straight up, his neck swelled out, his 
back straight, his legs rigid. He reminded me of a strut- 
ting cock. Thus appears the mountain ram under excite- 



226 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

ment. But I made an interesting discovery. The other 
ram was three or four years old and his horns curving 
behind did not curl upward. When he reached the sky- 
line and came under a certain angle with the sun, I 
beheld the famous "/T'^x,'* often reported to have been 
seen on the far northern summits of Alaska. The horns 
appeared to be magnified to a long sweep of three or 
four feet, curving behind exactly like those of an ibex. 
So complete was the deception, that had I not been cer- 
tain of the animal, I would have been deluded into the 
belief that an ibex stood before me. I have many times 
witnessed similar delusions and have thus learned to give 
more credit to the good faith of those who report having 
seen an ibex. Also, I know that they have not been so 
fortunate as to have had experiences similar to my own. 

It was just a year, lacking one day, since a veteran 
ram had been stretched out before me on a high moun- 
tain in the Ogilvie range at the head of Coal Creek, a 
veteran ram, the prize of many days of tramping over the 
mountains. Now, stretched before me, was another vet- 
eran ram, the prize of my trip among the Felly ranges. 

The dead ram was a hundred and fifty yards distant, 
and' I was interested to test the wind by throwing up 
pieces of paper which were blown directly toward him, 
near enough to prove that no eddying of the air currents 
had deflected my scent. Going forward when the papers 
fell, I tossed up others and they were carried in the same 
direction. It was clear that my scent had not frightened 
these rams. I went over to the dead ram and found 
him lighter in color than the typical Stone sheep, and 




"After five jumps fell dead," August 2. 



HUNTING RAMS 227 

darker than Fannin sheep. He was so old that I could 
not count the rings on his wrinkled horns. They were 
blunted at the tips, and his teeth were badly worn. 
Though not large in circumference or unusually long, I 
class them as the most impressive type of wild sheep- 
horns — massive, well-curled, and more than all, thor- 
oughly and deeply wrinkled. After taking some photo- 
graphs I measured him — I never measure a mountain 
sheep unless it falls on fairly level ground smooth enough 
to insure accuracy, and just after killing, before it has 
stiffened or become swollen. All the conditions were 
favorable and my steel tape recorded his length as 
fifty-nine inches, height forty inches, and girth behind 
shoulders (a measurement which varies according to the 
condition of the animal, and doubtful to get twice alike 
under any conditions) forty-eight inches. His weight, so 
near as I could estimate it, was about two hundred and 
forty pounds. 

The ram was lying at an altitude of six thousand seven 
hundred feet. It was then nearly six in the afternoon, 
and after resting awhile to smoke my pipe and behold 
the glorified landscape, I took off the skin and cleaned 
the skull. 

At nine I reached camp; the air was frosty and the 
warmth of the crackling fire congenial. 

August 2. — The next morning I prepared the skin of 
the ram, and also those of several ground-squirrels. In 
the afternoon I took the mouse-traps and set them high 
on a mountain in front of camp. Now and then I had 
seen a chipmunk in the woods, but red squirrels were 



228 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

entirely absent from the locality near camp. Of all my 
camps in spruce woods in the interior of Yukon Territory 
and Alaska, including even those in the timber-line 
spruces, this was the only one where I did not see or hear 
red squirrels. Rabbits were very numerous. 



CHAPTER XV 

THE FINAL HUNT FOR RAMS— 1905 

August 3. — The following day, though it was so hazy 

that I could not see from mountain to mountain, or from 

ridge to ridge, if separated by any distance, I started to 

climb the spur where the ram had been killed, and to 

ascend to the crest of the main mountain, on the chance 

of seeing more rams on the other side. Reaching the 

crest, and walking in a westerly direction I had not 

advanced far before I saw an old ewe with her lamb, 

together with two small rams, each about three years old. 

They were feeding below at the head of a spur which 

divided two basins. Concealing myself, I watched them. 

After awhile they began to ascend toward a part of the 

crest which was three hundred yards ahead of me. Their 

gait was typical, like that of all mountain-sheep when 

travelling undisturbed. They usually walk up smooth 

places, and run up the steep rocky slopes. Their ascent 

or descent is a succession of walks, runs, and jumps. 

But on a smooth, easy incline or on the level, except 

when encountering rocks, they always walk. The head is 

usually carried forward at an angle, and the necks of 

ewes as well as of rams are straight, or sometimes swelled 

when the head is held back. 

229 



230 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

The old ewe was extremely watchful and distinctly 
the leader. Taking out my kodak, I remained flat on 
my back, hoping that after reaching the crest they would 
turn and come in my direction. But they passed directly 
over and disappeared on the other side. The wind was 
blowing from me to them. Holding my kodak ready, I 
slowly followed the sheep-trail on the crest, toward the 
point where they had disappeared. When within fifty 
yards, I passed around a high, protruding rock and saw 
them lying down just below the sky-line. Instantly 
dropping back and preparing the kodak, I suddenly 
stepped forward in plain sight and pressed the bulb as 
the old ewe jumped up. All had begun to run across 
the curving slope as I snapped another exposure. It was 
hazy, and their color blended so perfectly with the rock 
that they appear but indistinctly in the negative. I saw 
them again after they had crossed a canon and were 
beginning to ascend the slope toward that part of the 
crest where the two large rams had gone the day before. 

Proceeding in that direction, I looked over all the 
country that I had not previously seen, until about the 
middle of the afternoon when I observed some sheep 
feeding in a basin below me. There were two ewes, each 
followed by two lambs, and five mature ewes without 
lambs. All, including the lambs, were very dark, and 
the neck of one ewe was distinctly gray. I watched them 
for some time until they lay down to rest without a ** sen- 
tinel.'* Like other ewes they fed much more actively 
than rams; were more nervous, and oftener threw up 
their heads to look; and they also maintained a more 



THE FINAL HUNT FOR RAMS 231 

constant watch on the slopes above them. All the sheep 
I had seen up to that time in the Pelly Mountains were 
continually tormented about the lips and nose by insects. 
They were constantly shaking their heads or rubbing 
them along the ground, and striking the ground with 
their horns. No mosquitoes were there and some of the 
varieties of small flies must have been worrying them. 

Later I returned to the carcass of the ram I had killed 
the day before, and rested for half an hour. Looking up 
at the crest of the mountain I saw the sheep which I had 
photographed in the morning walking along the sky-line. 
They evidently had been resting there all the afternoon. 
The angle of the sun was again just right to transform the 
three-year olds into "ibexes." Then, instead o( leading, 
as she did in the morning before they were disturbed, the 
wily old ewe was walking in the rear, and pausing every 
few moments to stop and look behind. The small rams 
walked somewhat indifferently ahead of her. Cutting off 
the hind quarters of the ram, I shouldered them and re- 
turned to camp. 

August 4. — The only territory available to hunt from 
that camp, which I had not already investigated, was that 
west of the south basin. Early in the morning, I tramped 
three miles up toward the basin, and arriving at the foot 
of the range waited for the atmosphere to clear. Heavy 
mists obscured all the mountains and I did not want to 
attempt the long climb unless the nearer mountains could 
be distinctly seen. Instead of lifting the fog increased, 
and by the time I had eaten lunch mists had filled all the 
basins. I returned and the next day was so foggy and 



232 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

rainy that I remained in camp. It was the first bad day 
experienced up to that time on the trip. 

August 6. — The following morning I started before 
five. During the night heavy frost had whitened the 
mountains, and the little pools of water were frozen. 
The sky was perfectly clear, a light wind was blowing from 
the south, and weather conditions were perfect to start 
the day. Arriving at the foot of the mountain, I began 
to ascend a steep, smooth slope, and soon found extreme 
difficulty in keeping my footing on the slippery ground. 
I should have waited for the frost to melt, for while wear- 
ing leather moccasins it was dangerous to climb under 
those conditions. But with my rifle as a staff I gradu- 
ally zigzagged upward until reaching the last twenty feet 
below the crest. That part of the slope was smooth rock 
and very steep, the slippery surface relieved here and 
there by loose pieces of stone lodged in cracks and inden- 
tations of the surface. There I paused for awhile and 
considered the chances, for up to that point the climb 
had been trying to my courage. Eagerness to gain the 
crest spurred me on to attempt it, and after feeling among 
some of the loose rocks, I thought they were lodged 
securely. After a step or two it was clear that my mocca- 
sins would not hold; so, taking them off, I was encour- 
aged by finding more friction in my socks, and, with rifle 
slung on my back and clinging with hands and toes, I 
began to crawl upward. Three thousand feet of slope, 
sharply inclined and slippery, was below, and one slip, 
a slight momentum gained, and I would have dashed 
downward. 



THE FINAL HUNT FOR RAMS 233 

After six feet, the loose rocks were scarcer and my 
position was becoming doubtful. Four feet more and I 
realized extreme danger, since I could scarcely hold to 
the slope and could not retreat. Three more steps and I 
began to go backward, but held myself in time. Another 
attempt and I gained six feet, when a small rock, which 
was all that held my left foot, as I was reaching above 
for a handhold, gave way and I began to slide quickly. 
Before it was too late, my knee caught a rock and held 
me. I could not even look back, but feeling with my 
hand another rock above, I pulled myself upward and 
made a vigorous scramble, trusting all to the result. It 
was successful, for I caught a secure rock on the edge 
at the top and pulled myself up. Only those who have 
had a similar experience can realize my relief. 

A new panorama burst into view; below were three 
exquisite Alpine lakes nestled high in the mountains at 
the head of a canon, through which they drained to Tes- 
lin waters on the other side of the divide, while to the 
south-west, endless ranges and ranks of peaks extended 
toward the horizon. Clouds began to gather as I started 
to walk along the crest. Nothing is more fascinating 
than to roam along the crest of the higher ranges in that 
far northern country. You feel that the whole country 
below is yours — in it you are supreme. In the vast wilder- 
ness unfolded around you, you feel a wild, unfettered free- 
dom; you follow the sheep-trail, always a good path, 
leading you securely around the pinnacles; with strained 
excitement you walk slowly along, every step bringing 
new pictures in view; you look off over a vast bewildering 



234 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

landscape of lofty ranges rich in color, abounding in 
sculptured crags, deep caiions, and green basins — the 
desolation relieved by the chatter of the ground-squirrel, 
the bleat of the coney, or the whistle of the marmot, while 
you are ever alert for larger game — the noble ram or the 
shaggy grizzly. 

By noon the wind from the south had increased, 
bringing dark clouds, mists, and a heavy shower. I had 
noticed among the Felly Mountains, that whenever the 
wind came from the south, it brought heavy mists and 
showers. Sitting under a shelving rock, I ate some 
bread and remained for an hour until the sky was again 
clear. Looking westward across the valley to another 
range, I saw a band of eighty ewes and lambs feeding 
and resting on the slope. The variations in color were 
the same as in the case of the sheep already observed in 
the Felly Mountains. As they rested, I watched them 
and noticed at times an apparent sentinel, but at other 
times all rested without one. 

I then continued along the crest toward the amphi- 
theatre of mountains surrounding the head of the basin. 
Their north slopes, then fronting me, were covered in 
places with much snow, and iron-stained rock imparted 
to them a rich, red color. At three in the afternoon, when 
nearer the head of the basin, I seated myself for the pur- 
pose of looking through my field-glasses at a very high 
mountain farther to the west. This was connected by a 
high saddle to another mountain which was joined to 
the basin ranges by a ridge. A large bank of snow ex- 
tended down the slope of the saddle, two miles distant. 



THE FINAL HUNT FOR RAMS 235 

On the snow I saw a three-year-old ram, which soon left 
it, and was joined by two others of the same age. It was 
interesting to observe how extremely conspicuous a sheep 
of that dark color was when on the snow. They walked 
upward in single file along the sky-line to the crest, when 
the sun magnified their horns to the ibex transformation. 
They were apparently very suspicious and as they pro- 
ceeded, kept looking down. When I saw another small 
ram appear above the snow-bank and lie down, I con- 
cluded that there were more rams below on the other 
side. Not being able to pass around the precipitous sides 
of two peaks near me, I had to climb over them and this 
required some effort and crag work. Proceeding, I was 
in plain sight of the ram which stood above the snow, 
and my progress, between pauses to watch him or to 
observe others that might appear near him, was, there- 
fore, slow and careful. The other two rams soon ap- 
peared on the top of the mountain and lay down facing 
me. They must have seen me, for several times I saw 
them rise and look suspiciously in my direction, although 
they were fifteen hundred feet above me and more than 
a mile distant. At length I reached the foot of the inter- 
vening mountain, and, thoroughly concealed, slowly made 
the ascent. Reaching the apex I looked over. Below, 
on the other side, was a small circular basin of broken 
rock alternating with grassy areas, almost completely 
enclosed by surrounding rock walls. In the bottom was 
a gleaming crystal lakelet, strongly reflecting the peaks. 
To my right, between the two mountains, was a deep 
gorge. 



236 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

Circling to the right, I saw three small rams lying 
above the snow, two of them facing me, the other looking 
toward the north-west. The rams on the peak above had 
risen and were looking at me. I felt sure there were rams 
below, and began to descend toward the gorge. After 
I had gone a short distance, a large band of rams, feeding 
just above the edge of the gorge, suddenly came Into 
view. Instantly I withdrew from sight, since It was Im- 
possible to approach them from the mountain I was on. 
Retreating upward around the slope, I descended to the 
top of the connecting ridge, observing everywhere numer- 
ous fresh sheep tracks Indicating that this band of rams 
had been occupying the areas about this basin for a long 
time. It was after five when I began to advance directly 
toward the gorge, hoping to come near enough for a good 
shot before the rams below would come In sight. Having 
studied the ground, I knew that a successful approach 
was doubtful, and I had been obliged to take the one 
possible way — to advance along the rolling slopes In plain 
sight of the three rams above the snow. The rams on 
the summit were already standing and watching me. 

Keeping my eyes on the lower rams and stooping low, 
I slowly advanced, but they soon saw me and at once 
rose and stood looking at me. As I progressed, they 
remained motionless and I could almost feel their pene- 
trating gaze. When the band below was not more than 
three or four hundred yards distant, I came to a swell 
in the ground and knew that from the top of It I could 
see them. But I could not get nearer. The slope on 
the other side fell almost vertically to the gorge. Creep- 



THE FINAL HUNT FOR RAMS 237 

ing upward, I looked over. Twenty-five rams were 
below, some lying down facing in all directions, some 
lazily feeding. They seemed to feel perfect security in 
the secluded basin where probably during the whole 
summer, they had lived undisturbed. All were dark in 
color except three, which appeared almost white. Most 
of them were five or six years old, but the darkest one, 
then lying down, had particularly fine horns. Only two 
of the others had large horns. I wanted that dark ram. 

The most noticeable feature of that band was the 
appearance of their horns. All were amber-like, and 
seemed almost transparent. The horns of the rams I 
had previously seen behind the camp were in color almost 
exactly like those of the Rocky Mountain sheep. Future 
investigations enlightened me on these facts. The differ- 
ences in color are due partly to the amount of rain which 
washes them, and still more to the composition of the 
soil and rocks among which they feed. Rams in the fly 
season are continually striking their horns in the ground, 
and at all seasons are poking them among rocks when 
they feed, thus discoloring them in different degrees. 
After heavy rains, horns always appear cleaner and more 
yellow, and in winter they are much cleaner than at other 
times of the year. 

There was no sentinel among these rams, unless the 
three small ones, five hundred yards above, could be con- 
sidered as serving that duty. In spite of the lazy comfort 
which they seemed to be enjoying, I noticed that indi- 
viduals kept up an alert watch in all directions, turning 
their gaze up as well as down. While I was watching 



238 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

them, well concealed behind some low rocks, a large 
mass of rock broke away from the top of the mountain 
behind them, and thundering down the slope landed 
about fifty yards to their right. During the crashing 
descent I observed them very closely. They remained 
absolutely indifferent to the small avalanche, only one 
of them turning his head in that direction. Three single 
rocks fell at later intervals, but they took no notice of 
them. After awhile in seeking a different position so 
that I could better hold my glasses, I dislodged a small 
stone not three inches in diameter, which went roll- 
ing down the slope. Up to that time I could not see 
that any of the rams had suspected my presence, except 
the three small ones above, two of which were then lying 
down. These small rams evidently trusted the larger 
ones, and even after having seen me approach, they were 
indifferently awaiting some warning of alarm from the 
leaders below. At the sound of that small rock, the 
whole band jumped up at once and started to walk up 
the slope. It was perfectly calm and I could feel no 
currents of air. The rams were suspicious and I knew 
that in a moment they would see me. Being so far from 
camp, I realized that an opportunity might be lost and 
that after seeing me they might leave the locality before 
I could return. So resting my rifle on a rock, I aimed 
at the largest and fired. All suddenly ran to the right, 
while the young rams above dashed down the slope to 
join them. My bullet struck the ground three feet below 
the big ram. I fired twice more as he ran. Both shots 
missed and the sheep disappeared around the slope. 



THE FINAL HUNT FOR RAMS 239 

Hurrying down, I found a way to cross the gorge and 
ascended to the saddle. All were standing six hundred 
yards away, low down on the slopes of the mountain on 
the crest of which I had travelled all day, and were 
looking up in my direction. Returning through the 
gorge, I again climbed to the connecting ridge, circled 
around, and saw the rams travelling low on the slopes in 
a northerly direction — that from which I had come in 
the morning. They passed out of sight around the end 
of a spur half a mile ahead. I climbed to the crest, 
reached the spur, and descended along its ridge almost 
to the foot, before I saw them travelling well ahead, still 
lower on the slopes. Looking back, some of them saw 
me and all broke into a run, still keeping the same course. 
I watched them through my jfield-glasses as they passed 
over spur after spur for two miles, until, reaching the 
foot of some high cliffs, they bunched and stood in 
hiding. 

It required more than an hour to climb back again 
to the crest, cross over the two pyramid peaks, and travel 
along until I reached the spur at the foot of which I 
thought they were hiding. Descending Its acute ridge 
for half a mile, I looked over and did not see them. A 
succession of spurs projected out from the mountain, 
and by that time I was utterly confused as to which one 
sheltered the rams. I had taken landmarks, but from 
the crest above could not recognize them. Again ascend- 
ing to the crest and advancing to the next spur, I slowly 
descended and looked over the cliffs at Its foot. No 
sheep were there. But looking across a wide canon, at 



240 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

the foot of the next spur, under the cliffs, I saw the whole 
band, all its members lying down and looking only up- 
ward. There was nothing to do but again to climb up 
on the crest; but I had studied the ground and knew 
just how to approach them and also the point on the spur 
from which to get a shot. Reaching the spur I began to 
descend, and the stalk was on in earnest. When I 
started downward the sun was just above the horizon and 
threw long shadows. Cafions were on both sides of me, 
and my shadow fell far out down the slope. I waited, 
therefore, until the sun went down, and again started. 
There was not a breath of wind, the sky above was clear, 
the whole landscape was hushed and still. Peace breathed 
over the mountain; the peace of approaching twilight. 
Directly below were the three Alpine lakes, their surfaces 
like glass and burnished with the reflection of the colored 
sky. So calm was the water that the delicate ripples 
made by insects could be plainly seen. Three teals were 
gently floating on the lower one. To the west ranks of 
bewildering peaks lifted up in a sky of gorgeous crimson, 
gradually shading into the cool gray above. A golden 
tinge haunted the crests, while pyramids, spires, and 
domes were rosy yellow above the blue cast of the 
slopes which led down to the shadowy purple of the 
valleys. 

The ridge-top of the spur was steep. Step by step I 
advanced downward, now over a little grass, now over 
broken rock, often letting myself down low ledges. It 
was already so dark that I felt doubtful of seeing my 
rifle sights. It was so still that I crept for a hundred 



THE FINAL HUNT FOR RAMS 241 

yards before coming to the two rocks from where I ex- 
pected to get a shot. Nearer I came, my noiseless mocca- 
sins answering well to the occasion, until, with rifle 
cocked, I was ready to attempt a running shot If the 
rams should suddenly dash In sight. Reaching the rocks 
I looked over. I was not quite far enough, and before me 
was a steep incline of ten feet, all loose, broken rock. 
Sitting down, I carefully prepared each step by arranging 
the rocks with my hand. Then with rifle at my shoulder, 
I slowly rose. 

In spite of my caution the rams had heard something 
suspicious. Four were standing just below the clifl^s and, 
as my head came in sight, were looking directly at me. 
They were a hundred yards away. The dark one with 
big horns was still hidden with the rest of the band nearer 
to the foot of the cllfl^. One of the rams looking at me 
had large horns. While the four were standing still, a 
clatter of hoofs sounded. Off-hand, I quickly shot at the 
largest one In sight, and saw him fall as the whole band 
dashed diagonally up the canon on my left. There was 
no time to rest my rifle. Four rams were running to- 
gether up the opposite slope, the big dark one leading. 
He fell dead to my shot. Another large one ran up the 
bottom and, firing, I heard the bullet strike him. One 
that was running more to the left suddenly turned and 
came running toward me. He was the whitest of all, 
and I killed him in his tracks. By that time all were 
running well up the slope, and a wounded ram followed 
fast enough to gain on them. I fired once more at him, 
but he kept on with the others and went over the crest. 



242 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

Darkness was rapidly descending. Passing the white 
ram curled up among the rocks, I had started for the big 
ram which was lying dead In the bottom of the canon, 
when a noise below caused me to turn my head, and I 
saw the first one I had fired at rolling and bounding down 
the slope until he disappeared In the dusk. Following as 
rapidly as I could, I almost reached the foot, but It was 
so dark that I could not find him. Fog began to settle, 
and I hurried back to the crest. It was nearly ten in the 
night when I reached it, and a dense fog enveloped the 
whole mountain. It was dark and the descent over an 
unknown slope was before me. I was at an altitude of 
seven thousand four hundred feet, and it was very cold. 
Feeling my way with the butt of my rifle, hour after 
hour I descended, step by step, always in danger, and 
twice falling. 

August 7. — It was two In the morning when I reached 
the foot near the creek coming from the basin. There I 
kindled a fire and made tea, which together with a small 
piece of bread refreshed me. Dawn was beginning as I 
started down the creek, and a heavy rain began to fall. 
The drenching received while walking through the last 
two miles of willows was equivalent to complete immer- 
sion. 

At 4130 In the morning I reached camp. A big fire, 
a plate of rice soup, and some boiled mutton invigorated 
me before writing in my journal the events and details 
of the day. After three hours of sleep, I breakfasted 
with Jefferies and we started for the carcasses, hoping 
also to recover the wounded ram. The day was over- 




"The big dark one was leadixg. He fell dead to my rhot." Augitst 6. 




"He was the whitest of all and I killed him in his tracks," August 6- 



THE FINAL HUNT FOR RAMS 243 

cast, but the clouds were high and It did not rain. We 
cut long willow staffs, climbed the mountain, and having 
travelled for five and a half hours, reached the dead 
rams. I had noticed on the crest the tracks of the fright- 
ened band of sheep, which had followed it almost to the 
end of the mountain before descending the west slope 
and crossing the valley to a high mountain beyond, but 
I did not see a sign of the wounded ram. 

From the spot where the first ram that had been shot 
began to roll we descended just two thousand feet, ac- 
cording to my barometer, before finding him among the 
willows, almost at the foot. He was not badly bruised, 
and had fine, large horns. After taking off the skin, we 
went up to the big one, which had beautiful horns, shapely 
and well curled. We took off his skin, and later that of the 
light-colored ram, and brought them up to the crest. It 
was then 9:30 in the night and a fine half-moon was 
shining in a clear sky. The lakes gleamed below and 
the distant peaks were suffused with a mysterious, shad- 
owy light. There was more light than the night before, 
and the descent was less hazardous, even though we were 
burdened with awkward loads. The staffs were of great 
assistance. Reaching the basin, we made tea, and later, 
at 2.30 in the morning, arrived at camp. That day I 
had seen a rough-legged hawk on the crest; and had 
also heard conies — the second time I had noticed them 
during the trip. They were scarce in the Pelly Mountains. 

August 8. — I rose at eight the next morning. The 
pure mountain air had put me in such good physical con- 
dition that I felt thoroughly refreshed even after the 



244 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

short hours of sleep and the strain of the two previous 
days. New fields of exploration were to be undertaken 
and I resolved to return to the Pelly River as soon as the 
skins should be dried enough for packing. It required 
all day to prepare them, and I wanted good clear weather 
for their drying, but was disappointed. 

August 9-12. — The next three days were damp; mists, 
showers, and clear sky alternating. The fourth was clear, 
and a large fire near the skins dried them sufficiently 
for packing. During those four days I occupied myself 
with unsuccessful efforts at catching mice. 

The bird life at timber-line was limited. Along the 
creeks I had heard the tinkling notes of the water-ousel. 
An occasional spotted sandpiper had skipped along the 
bars, or a harlequin duck had dodged among the rocks. 
The golden eagle was always in sight. Ravens were 
entirely absent, having gone to the salmon rivers to feast 
on dead salmon. I did not hear the hoot of an owl. 
Several pigeon-hawks were in the woods near camp, and 
once I saw two of them following an eagle, darting at it 
again and again. Rough-legged hawks were about the 
high mountains. Juncos, and Alaska jays were abundant. 
The last did not come near the camp but once, and then 
only for a few moments. Rock ptarmigan were on the 
mountains, but nearly all the willow ptarmigan were 
below with their young in the brush. I did not see a 
grouse until returning along the Lapie River. An occa- 
sional marsh-hawk appeared there as everywhere else in 
the Territory; chickadees were always present, usually in 
small flocks. The Western tree sparrow and the Gambel's 




"Finding him among the willows, almost at the foot," August 7. 



THE FINAL HUNT FOR RAMS 245 

sparrow were common. Occasionally a kingfisher would 
fly up the creek. 

I was always interested in testing the acute senses of 
the ground-squirrels. Though I could approach close to 
them before they plunged into their holes, they always 
detected my approach long before. Their sense of hear- 
ing is exceedingly keen, and at any suspicious sound they 
sit up to look and their sight is as sharp as their hearing. 
The senses of marmots are equally keen. They have their 
homes high in the mountains and well up near the heads 
of the basins. 

In the fall and winter, moose are very abundant among 
the willows above timber. After a great deal of observa- 
tion I came to the conclusion that they seldom feed on 
dwarf-birch, Betula glandulosa. This conclusion I veri- 
fied by numerous subsequent observations. The willow 
flats in the draws among the Pelly Mountains are well 
situated for hunting moose in the fall. These draws are 
always bordered by clear slopes above, from which the 
hunter can see the animals. At that time, however, 
pack-horses, necessary to the transport of their heads, 
could not subsist, and the hunter would have to remain 
until November and bring his trophies out with dog- 
sleds. 

I saw no signs of caribou in those parts of the Pelly 
Mountains I had tramped over, and the Indians informed 
me that they do not range anywhere in the Pellys. I did, 
however, see one old track on a bar near the lower end 
of the Lapie. An occasional caribou must at times stray 
across the country. 



246 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

Wolves must be abundant, for I saw great quantities 
of their old dung everywhere. Much of it contained 
rabbit hair, and some of it moose hair, but in none of it 
could I find sheep hair. 

The diggings and trails showed that grizzly bears are 
abundant there in the spring. The fact that I saw only 
one does not indicate that others were not about, for in 
the summer the sight of grizzlies is always uncertain. 
When we reached the Lapie on returning, I saw numer- 
ous fresh signs where grizzlies had been digging the root 
of the wild pea vine. Although huckleberries were very 
abundant where I found the diggings, no berries or seeds 
were in the fresh dung which contained only grass and 
roots. 

August 14-16. — Dried sheepskins are somewhat deli- 
cate, and it was a problem to make a pack of seven, 
including some of the skulls and our equipment. I loaded 
my riicksack with forty pounds and tied a skull on top. 
Jefferies was to carry two skulls, and we succeeded in 
putting the rest of the material on Danger, and started. 
Danger had been going lame in his right foreleg for a 
week, and by the end of the day he was so lame that the 
following morning we ourselves had to carry in relays all 
the material for two miles over a ridge, when we again 
loaded the horse, who limped along for the rest of the day. 
For the next two days we proceeded, the lame horse keep- 
ing up nobly, down grade and over a route then well 
known to us. When trophies are carried on a pack-horse, 
travelling through swamps, brush, and timber, it is ex- 
cruciating agony to follow. Smash, bang, tear, rip, crash, 



THE FINAL HUNT FOR RAMS 247 

are the sounds all day as the pack is pushed through 
stiff willows and spruces, each jar causing an anxious 
shudder to the owner of the precious stuff. 

On the return trip, the big horse-flies, which had before 
tormented the horse, were absent, but the small black 
flies made him bleed. It was the season for sand-flies, 
small creatures like midges, but slightly larger. They ap- 
peared in swarms in the afternoon and retired at night, 
and while active attacked both man and horse. 

Aside from rough travelling and tired shoulders, which 
ached under the loads, no incident occurred on the return 
trip. We saw no animals except red squirrels which were 
abundant the last day we were on the Lapie, and a few 
more varieties of birds. We reached the Pelly August 
16, having made about the same time from camp on the 
return as on the trip in. None of the skulls or skins were 
damaged, and all were stowed safely in an abandoned 
cabin. Lewis not having returned, all the Indians were 
still there. On seeing my sheep horns they became very 
much excited. They had previously doubted my ability 
to kill sheep. 

Dan McKinnon's trade had been that of a blacksmith 
and at once he offered to take Danger — a suggestion which 
I accepted on condition that he would gather sufficient 
grass to keep the horse through the winter. This was in- 
tended as an indirect refusal, for Danger was lame, and 
I knew that it was best to end his life rather than leave 
him subjected to the cruel conditions of the wilderness. 
McKinnon, however, accepted my condition, and soon 
had the barrel of a 22-rifle red hot in a fire. By noon the 



248 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

next day he had hammered out a scythe, which was sharp- 
ened on a grindstone. He immediately began to cut the 
long nutritious grass growing abundantly on the banks, 
and old Danger s lease of life was prolonged. 



THE ROSS RIVER COUNTRY 
MOUNTAINS BORDERING THE PELLY RIVER 



CHAPTER XVI 

THE TRIP UP ROSS RIVER— 1905 

August 17 and 18 were spent in storing the skins, 
sorting out provisions, and preparing the canoe. The 
following morning we started up Ross River. I wanted 
to investigate the mountain ranges adjacent to it, and ex- 
amine the sheep if any could be found. The Indians had 
told me that no sheep existed west of the Mackenzie di- 
vide, but knowing that they did not like to have anybody 
hunt in their territory, I realized that I must personally 
explore the mountains. 

The volume of Ross River at its confluence with the 
Pelly is slightly less than that of the latter. It was dis- 
covered by Campbell during his trip down the Pelly in 
1843, and named by him after Duncan Ross, chief factor 
of the Hudson Bay Company. Its source is near the di- 
vide of land separating the Mackenzie River water-shed 
from that of the Yukon, about latitude 63°. The sources 
of the Pelly River and the South Branch of the MacMillan 
on the west side of the divide, and those of the Gravel 
River on the east side, are within a few miles of those of 
the Ross, which latter meanders for a distance not far 
from two hundred miles in a south-westerly direction to 
the Pelly. Several lakes, situated at intervals in the up- 
per reaches of its main drainage channel, are features not 

251 



252 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

possessed by the other rivers. It flows through the hunt- 
ing territory of the Felly Indians. 

Four years before I arrived at Nahanni House two 
French Canadians, Cassat and Dumas, had ascended the 
river to a point just above Prevost Canon, where they con- 
structed a cabin and passed the winter trapping. The 
following year Lewis and his partner ascended a short 
distance, but returned. At the same time, two other trap- 
pers continued still farther and trapped through the win- 
ter, while the same two Frenchmen trapped up the East 
Branch, later called the Prevost River. A Russian went 
up to the first lake and trapped that same winter. The 
following winter Lewis and his partner trapped at Lewis 
Lake, while La Croix and Prevost trapped on the Prevost 
River. The winter before my arrival at Nahanni House, 
a trapper had trapped around Lewis Lake. According 
to information given to me by Lewis, these were the only 
white men who had ever ascended the river. No Informa- 
tion about it had been brought to the outside world, and 
I was about to explore new territory. 

Two years after my trip, Joseph Keele, of the Cana- 
dian Geological Survey, was detailed to explore the moun- 
tain region between the upper Pelly and Mackenzie Rivers. 
After spending the summer of 1907 in ascending the Pelly 
River to a point one hundred and forty miles above its 
confluence with Ross River, he returned and ascended the 
Ross River, wintered on Sheldon Lake, and In the spring 
crossed the divide, conveying his canoe and equipment 
by means of dog sleds to a navigable point on the Gravel 
River. When the ice went out later, he descended to the 



THE TRIP UP ROSS RIVER 253 

Mackenzie. His report was published in 191 0.* With 
the report, which discusses topography, drainage, cH- 
mate, and general geology of the regions, is an excellent 
map on which names are given to lakes, tributaries and 
mountains. 

August 19. — While flocks of geese were flying south 
overhead Jefferies started with the rope over his shoulder, 
dragging the canoe, which contained a load of five hun- 
dred pounds. I followed and after awhile relieved him. 
The first six miles we towed through a wide cafion of 
broken water, and after emerging at the head, poled for 
over three hours and camped in some spruces on the bank. 

For the next three days we ascended without an inci- 
dent. The river was five feet below high-water mark, 
and favorable for poling. I poled from the bow, while 
Jefferies poled from the stern. The river followed a ser- 
pentine course through a low, rolling country which was 
very monotonous as compared with either that of the 
Pelly or of the MacMillan. The current was not swifter 
than three miles an hour, and we resorted to tracking 
only through the riffles and some of the longer reaches of 
broken water. The character of the river is very much 
like that of the MacMillan, but it lacks the scenery. 
There are the same wide bars, the same spruces, poplars, 
willows and alders along the banks; similar areas of 
burnt country; innumerable curves and numerous cut 
and scarped banks — all reminding me of the MacMillan. 
The fall colors had just begun to appear, though the nights 
were quite warm. 

* See Appendix. 



254 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

The second day some dome-shaped mountains of sub- 
dued type loomed up ahead in the distance west of the 
river. Dead king-salmon were on the bars, and all the 
ravens in the country seemed to be congregated along the 
river for the purpose of feeding on them. The farther up 
we went, the more salmon we saw spawning in the pools. 
Thousands were dead on the bars or dying in the water, 
and equal numbers were still spawning or struggling up 
against the current; hundreds, too weakened to remain, 
were drifting down, many striving to swim against the 
current, but without strength left to do so. We were there 
during the end of the spawning season, the last stage in the 
life of those noble fish. Observing that enormous sacri- 
fice of life, I reflected on it without discovering the Benefi- 
cent Law of nature or Goodness of Design, by virtue of 
which countless millions of these magnificent fish are an- 
nually sacrificed in the full flush of life, for the sake of 
propagating their race. Battered, bruised, and torn by 
their long journey of nearly twenty-three hundred miles 
from Bering Sea, stemming the sweeping current, forcing 
their way through dashing rapids, they finally deposit 
and fertilize their eggs as their life ebbs away. 

I noticed the same birds that were seen on the Mac- 
MiHan River, but fish-hawks were very abundant, and 
bald eagles were present — the only place I have ever seen 
them in the interior of either the Yukon Territory or 
Alaska. Rabbits and red squirrels were numerous, but 
the little beaver cutting that I noticed was very old, the 
Indians having practically exterminated the beavers long 
before. On the lower parts of the river moose tracks 



THE TRIP UP ROSS RIVER 255 

were not nearly so abundant as on the MacMillan. When 
we reached the part of the river where salmon first ap- 
peared, fresh tracks of the black bear were very numer-* 
ous, and still farther up were abundant tracks of the 
grizzly. Well-worn bear-trails extended along the edge 
of the woods, usually through the grass bordering the 
bars. This greatly interested me, for it showed the ex- 
treme caution of bears. There was no reason, except for 
purposes of concealment, why they should not have made 
trails through the grass well out near the bars. I par- 
ticularly observed the fresh dung. That of the black 
bears always contained berries, but no signs of berries 
were observed in that of grizzlies. Often, sections of tape- 
worm, still living when I saw them, appeared in the dung 
of both. 

Some impressions of my camps along the banks of 
Ross River are still vivid in my memory — the moaning of 
the sweeping current, the numerous dying salmon drift- 
ing down on top; the continual quarrelling of the ravens 
gathered on the bars; the chattering of the red squirrels 
in the trees. The nights were perfectly calm, and during 
the late hours the sky colors were gorgeous. A waste of 
dreary wooded wilderness surrounded me. But every 
scene of desolation in that wild northern country has its 
beauties. Along the Ross River it was the fringe of 
spruce-tops against the sky. I have not elsewhere en- 
joyed the charm of it so continuously, for the reason that 
near the other rivers much less of the country is flat. In 
the evening, when the sky is golden, when deep pink 
clouds are floating high above the woods, a long line of 



256 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

graceful spired spruce-tops, delicate in texture, varying 
in forms, fringes the gilded horizon, while all is dimly re- 
flected in the gliding sweep of the current below. 

August 24. — On the night of August 23 there was a 
heavy frost and the next day was perfect — cloudless and 
calm. We divided the time all day between poling and 
tracking. In the morning I saw a flock of geese, which 
kept alighting and flying ahead of us all day. Two more 
bald eagles appeared, and for the second time I saw a 
goshawk chasing a kingfisher. Both lynx and wolf tracks 
were abundant on the bars. I noticed that the bears, 
after catching salmon, had always taken them into the 
woods or brush to eat. The water of the river was more 
broken, and the wading reminded me of my arduous trip 
up the North Fork of the MacMillan River. Old Indian 
camps and caches were often seen on the bank. 

After six in the evening we reached a part of the river 
where it was confined to a short, narrow caiion between 
ridges on both sides. The bottom was filled with huge 
boulders and big rocks. The rapids surged over the 
rocks and whirled around the boulders, eddying among 
the deep pools below them. When I was hauling the 
boat, with Jefferies in the stern guiding it with the paddle, 
and we were well inside of the cafion, I saw a black bear 
rapidly approaching along the bank three hundred yards 
ahead on our side of the river. Beckoning to Jefferies, 
I pulled the boat to the shore, and taking out my rifle told 
him to hold the canoe. He was greatly excited, having 
seen the bear just before it went out of sight behind a jut- 
ting cliff. I seated myself facing in the direction of the 



THE TRIP UP ROSS RIVER 257 

bear, which I knew would soon come in sight, since the 
wind was blowing down the river. The bear suddenly ap- 
peared swimming out in the rapids, and when in the mid- 
dle, turned and came directly down, dodging around the 
rocks and keeping as much as possible in the deeper pools. 
Before witnessing that feat of swimming, I had believed 
that any kind of a bear would have avoided such danger- 
ous water. It would have been very easy to kill it when 
swimming by, but the current would have carried it down 
and I did not care to take the canoe down river and lose 
the distance gained by so much hard work. It was head- 
ing for the opposite side, so I waited for it to arrive on the 
bank. When it landed, I coul.d scarcely see it, so per- 
fectly did it blend with the dark rocks. My shot missed, 
and the bear gave a spring and stood looking. I was 
again aiming, when Jefferies suddenly fired and followed 
his first by three more shots, all missing, while the bear 
ran back and forth in complete bewilderment. I had 
not noticed that he had taken his rifle out of the boat, nor 
did he pay any heed to my protests. He was so excited 
that he was really in a state of frenzy. After his last shot 
the bear stopped a moment on a hummock rising above 
some brush, even then not having detected the direction 
of the shots. I fired and it fell in the brush, but immedi- 
ately jumped up and ran over the ridge. That was the last 
time I ever allowed a man employed by me to carry a rifle. 
I had never done so before and this time had made the 
mistake of yielding to Jefferies's promises that he would 
not use it unless in case of accident. Crossing over, I saw 
blood and followed it for a mile in the woods and over 



258 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

ridges until no more could be found. Returning to the 
river, camp was made there, and, later, we slept in spite 
of the roar of the rapids. 

August 25. — From there on the water was broken, 
the tangents were longer, the bottom rocky, and the river 
was bordered by low ridges. We were then in the moose 
country, for the abundant willows were everywhere 
cropped, and moose tracks were numerous. In two and 
a half hours we reached the Skookum Rapids (so called by 
the trappers), eighty-one miles up the river. Over a 
precipitous descent for five hundred yards the river rushes 
in a succession of white combers. Because of the low 
stage of water, we succeeded in lining the boat up the west 
side, and successfully passed through some similar rapids 
of shorter length, two miles farther up. We then poled 
for several miles to Prevost Canon. This canon, several 
hundred yards long, is enclosed between high cliffs which 
are so close together that the river is swelled and forced 
through in a succession of cataracts. We were obliged 
to unload and portage around to a favorable place, and 
then carry the boat to the smoother water of an eddy just 
at the head of the canon. 

Having again loaded it we crossed to another eddy on 
the opposite side where a rocky shore gave a good foot- 
hold for lining. This eddy was formed by a big boulder 
standing out in the riffle where the river curves into the 
canon. Jefferies put the rope over his shoulders and 
throwing it around the boulder walked on the other side, 
while I held the bow. After taking up the slack of the 
rope he told me to push the bow out in the current. 



THE TRIP UP ROSS RIVER 259 

What followed shows that one of the best rlvermen in 
the North will sometimes err in judgment. He did not 
realize the strength of the current. I could not see Jeff- 
eries as I slowly moved the bow out until the current 
caught it, but noticed that the canoe was rapidly being 
carried diagonally across the riffle instead of being pulled 
to head directly up against it. Then I heard Jefferies 
shout: "Everything is lost," and the canoe rapidly swung 
out broadside to the current and started down the canon. 
He had not been able to pull the bow up into the riffle, 
and to save himself from being pulled in had cast the rope 
loose. 

My rifle was on the shore. In the rucksack on my 
shoulders were my kodak, field-glasses, and instruments 
All the provisions were in the bottom of the canoe. On 
top of them were three or four canvas sacks containing 
our sleeping robe, clothes, gill-net, matches, cartridges, a 
small tent I had brought for the purpose of protecting 
trophies, and a few plain cooking utensils and other things. 
An extra rifle and the axe were fastened to a sack. A can- 
vas had been placed over all and roped down tightly. 

The canoe was rapidly carried down ten feet and 
lodged broadside for a moment against a large rock pro- 
jecting out of the water. It was tipped at once and the 
current rushed through, sweeping all the provisions be- 
low into the caiion. The canoe then slipped off the rock, 
swung around and was caught by the eddy which whirled 
it within my reach as I stood breast deep in the water. 
The fates were not entirely against us, for the canvas sacks 
were not forced out during the first rush of the water, the 



26o THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

rope holding them secure until the provisions were swept 
from the bottom. As the eddy caught the boat, the sacks 
began to float toward the bank and Jefferies was on hand 
to save them. The axe and the extra rifle dropped in four 
feet of water close to the bank. There was nothing to do 
but to make camp and pass the night. 

August 26. — The whole of the next day was devoted to 
walking down the river in the hope of finding some of the 
provisions, many of which were in small bags. We found 
only one bag of rice and it was thoroughly soaked. But 
we spread out the rice, dried it near the fire, and boiled 
enough for a good meal. 

August 27. — We knew that some lakes were not far 
ahead, and then the gill-net could be set with a good chance 
of catching fish. Early in the morning we started, and 
in a little over seven and a half hours reached Lewis Lake. 
The Prevost River enters the Ross about half a mile be- 
low the outlet of the lake. For that distance from the 
outlet the water is broken by shoals and rifiies, while 
ledges of rock occur along the bank. Thousands of dead 
salmon were on the rocky bars, and fifty or sixty ravens 
and two bald eagles were there to enjoy the feast. I was 
towing the boat and the wind was blowing down river. 
A ledge jutted out into the water and I had to wade well 
out in order to pass around it, while Jefferies was push- 
ing the canoe from behind. Heaving on the rope I 
rounded the rocks and saw on the bar a hundred and fifty 
feet ahead a magnificent male grizzly standing, head up, 
one forepaw raised from the ground, ears cocked straight 
up, looking at me. Quickly stooping low, I beckoned to 




Towing up the Ross River, August 23. 




Head of Provost Canon. Big rock at right where accident happened. 



THE TRIP UP ROSS RIVER 261 

Jefferies to bring my rifle, but it was too late. Before 
he could act the bear turned and two bounds carried him 
into the woods. I found his trail as it emerged from the 
fringe of woods bordering a swamp. It showed that he 
had continued to run. That was the last grizzly I saw in 
the Yukon Territory. The experience reminded me of 
other chances lost, for there is no doubt whatever that the 
noise of poling and tracking as we ascended the river had 
frightened off several bears which I might have shot, had 
I been walking quietly a sufficient distance ahead. 

It had been a cold, bleak day with a strong head-wind 
against us, and the night before snow had fallen on the 
mountains. After reaching the. lake, we paddled against 
a head-wind to the upper end and found the old cabin 
that had been occupied by Lewis. Immediately after 
unloading the canoe, we set the net and returned to await 
results. After two hours we visited it and found it empty. 
We slept under the stars, hoping to appease our hunger in 
the morning. 

August 28. — It was very cold that night and in the 
morning the robe was white with frost. Finding a large 
pike and two large white fish in the net, we ate a hearty 
breakfast. No fish of the fresh water is more delicious 
than the white fish of subarctic lakes and rivers. Hard, 
very fat, of delicious flavor, one large fish will provide two 
hearty meals. The pike is almost as good. 

By the course of the Ross, Lewis Lake is one hundred 
and one miles from the Pelly. Our canoe was about 
twenty-one feet long and weighed a hundred and fifty 
pounds. Until the last day it had carried a load of about 



262 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

five hundred pounds. The water was low and very fav- 
orable for both poling and tracking. Our actual travel- 
ling time, after deducting all stops, from the Felly River 
to Lewis Lake was sIxty-sIx hours and five minutes. Of 
this time, we poled the boat for forty-one hours and fifteen 
minutes, and towed It for twenty-four hours and fifty 
minutes. This included forty-five minutes In going 
through the Skookum Rapids, twenty-five minutes the 
heavy rapids two miles above, and one hour and fifty 
minutes in portaging around Prevost Canon. 

A few words about poling up the swift tributaries of 
the Yukon. Jefferles called poling " bucking the current," 
and I have not heard It better expressed. The river glides 
and races steadily, strongly, resistlessly. Even when two 
men are using poles, one In the stern, the other In the bow, 
they simply push against it. It is continuous, downright 
hard labor, with only slow progress as a reward, for the 
boat creeps slowly upward, and when overcoming the 
numerous rifiies It barely moves under exhausting effort. 
Like any other hard physical labor, you soon become ac- 
customed to it and acquire a swing, but the expenditure 
of muscular energy Is none the less fatiguing. There is, 
however, one satisfaction. After you have settled down 
to the continuous strain all day, now going faster In the 
eddies and slower reaches of the current, now going slower 
in the swifter water, and again barely moving as you rap- 
idly chug your poles on the rocky bottom and pull with 
heart-breaking effort, you finally go on the bank to camp, 
and looking down the river realize that you are putting 
a long stretch of country behind you for delightful days 



THE TRIP UP ROSS RIVER 263 

to come, when you will be paddling down with the 
current. 

It was quite necessary to kill game as quickly as possi- 
ble for a food supply. We spent the morning erecting 
the tent and drying everything that had been soaked in 
the wreck, and after eating another fish for lunch, poled 
two miles up the river to Field Lake. Thousands of 
ducks and geese were floating on its glassy surface, its 
shores were fringed with thick spruce timber, and all its 
numerous beaches were bordered by tall green grass. We 
paddled around the shores in the hope of seeing a moose 
until nearly dark, but were disappointed. When we 
reached camp, half a dozen white fish were in the net. 
Salmon were running up the river between the two lakes, 
but the net was too light to hold them. 

August 29. — In the morning the net had yielded four 
or five white fish and I found in the traps, which had been 
set the day before, four red-back mice, Evotomys dawsoni. 
Crossing the river I started up toward some fairly high 
plateau-shaped mountains east of the lake, hoping to find 
a moose at the head of the draws. For three hours I 
toiled through thick woods and brush to timber-line, and 
then climbed the highest point of the mountain, from 
which I could command a view of the whole country south 
and east. Moose signs were abundant below, but above 
the timber there was no sign of sheep or caribou. 

The three lakes were directly below me — beautiful 
lakes, each somewhat circular and about two miles in di- 
ameter, all buried between mountains. On the east is 
a range of rounded mountains of a subdued type, three 



264 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

and four thousand feet high, quickly falUng away both 
north and south of the lakes. That range Is isolated and 
on the east slopes to a rolling wilderness below. West of 
Lewis and Field Lakes, Irregular ridges rise continuously 
for three miles back to Mount RIddell, a series of dome- 
shaped crests, sixty-eight hundred feet in altitude. A 
low depression separates this mountain from Mount 
Sheldon,* which is seventy-two hundred and fifty feet 
high, and rises almost from the shores of Sheldon 
Lake. 

Mount Sheldon, a massive granite mountain com- 
pletely isolated In that section of the country, towers up 
like a majestic sentinel guarding the lakes below. Owing 
to its isolation it has a stern, impressive grandeur more 
imposing than any mountain I have seen east of the 
Yukon River. 

To the south I could see the whole course of the Ross 
as far as the Felly River, and dimly discern the summits 
of the Felly Mountains beyond. The country between 
the Ross and the Felly, and that to the south-east is 
low and rolling — a vast timber-clad area. Three or four 
fairly large lakes glistened in the forests. 

Far to the east are the ranges across the Mackenzie 
divide — ranks of snow-white peaks. 

Mount Sheldon, Mount RIddell, and the single range 
east of the lakes compose an Isolated group, separated 
from other mountains by many miles of low timbered 
country. Sheldon Lake is at the end of canoe navigation, 

*The mountains and lakes were so named by Joseph Keele, the Canadian 
geologist. 




Lewis Lake. Direction — south-west, August 29. 




Field Lake, Mount Sheldon, August 29. 



THE TRIP UP ROSS RIVER 265 

and I realized diat the only chance of finding sheep was 
to climb the slopes of Mount Sheldon. 

Late in the afternoon, after having taken compass di- 
rections and having made sketch maps of the surround- 
ing country, I turned my field-glasses toward Lewis Lake 
to look over the shores, and saw near the lower end a cow 
moose with her calf, both well out from the shore and re- 
peatedly plunging their heads under water to pull up some 
succulent weeds growing below the surface. It was ab- 
solutely calm and the lake was like glass; the sun was 
low in a sky of gold and crimson; Mount Sheldon, grim 
and desolate, towered over the wild regions below; the 
silence pervading the landscape was unbroken. But the 
wilderness depths revealed a scene of life — the calf moose 
and its mother separated from the recesses of their forest 
abode, and feeding in the dimly shining water of the lake. 
I had to hasten down to reach camp before dark. Ptarmi- 
gan were abundant, but I saw no signs of ground-squirrels 
to remind me of past days spent in other mountains. 



CHAPTER XVII 

THE SHEEP OF MOUNT SHELDON— 1905 

The following morning a white fish and an ''inconnu" 
were taken from the net. The latter I found similar in 
flavor and almost as good as the former. A salmon en- 
meshed in the net had torn it so badly that part of it was 
ruined. Red-backed mice were very abundant, their 
intersecting trails spreading all over the surface of the 
woods. I prepared several that had been taken in the 
traps, and waited until nearly four in the afternoon be- 
fore we started out in the canoe, hoping to find the cow and 
calf feeding in the same place in the lake where I had seen 
them the previous day. 

A strong head-wind was blowing and both of us had 
to use the paddles, as we went toward the middle of the 
lake so that I could see, from a distance, around the point 
where the moose had been feeding. When we were out 
far enough, I saw both the mother and calf feeding in the 
water exactly where they had been before. Dropping 
back, we paddled the canoe close in shore, and then along 
it until within three hundred yards of the point. After 
landing I followed the beach, intending to creep through 
the woods across the point, and was about to enter the 
woods, when the cow suddenly emerged not a hundred 

feet from me, and stepping without hesitation into the 

266 



THE SHEEP OF MOUNT SHELDON 267 

water began to wade out on the sandy bottom. The calf 
then appeared and followed. I shot the calf through the 
neck, and it instantly dropped dead. Jefferies, evidently 
excited, jumped into the boat as the calf fell, and the cow 
at first stood looking at him. Then she looked at the 
dead calf and, turning, trotted into the woods for a few 
feet and stopped ; then trotted a few feet more and stopped 
again and looked back. Then she disappeared. As 
Jefferies, with shouts of glee, came paddling the boat, the 
cow came trotting back, looked at the approaching canoe 
for a moment and again trotted off, not to reappear. 

After we had dressed the calf and loaded it into the 
boat, a large flock of short-billed gulls surrounded us and 
followed all the way to camp. Their plaintive cries re- 
minded me of coasting along the Inland Passage to Alaska. 
We now had a supply of food, and not being dependent 
on the net, could devote time to looking for sheep. 

August 31. — The next morning we poled up to Field 
Lake, and paddled the boat across it and through the nar- 
row channel to Sheldon Lake at the foot of Mount Shel- 
don which towers up from its shore. There we pitched 
the tent among some scattered spruces and constructed a 
cache to hold the meat. Along the shores and on the 
island I noticed many shed horns of moose, showing that 
they had been there in January. That night as I sat in 
the frosty air before the fire, while sparks were shooting 
up among the tree tops and the sky was studded with stars 
brightly twinkling above Mount Sheldon, over the water 
sounded the call of the loon, I have never heard it be- 
fore or since in the interior of Yukon Territory or Alaska. 



268 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

September i.^Early the next morning I started up 
through the woods, and fighting my way for three hours 
through the willows and dwarf-birch, emerged above 
timber on the slopes of Mount Sheldon, which was cov- 
ered with a few inches of snow. Looking up through my 
field-glasses I saw near the crest three young sheep which 
were very uneasy and kept nervously looking about. 
One was a three-year-old ram, the others two-year-olds. 
They acted in the way characteristic of young rams when 
separated from their band. They would lie down for a 
few moments, and then get up and look, until they moved 
a short distance to feed. After feeding a few moments 
they would become restless, and after looking about lie 
down again. But they would soon rise up and move 
nervously around. At last they went up near some cliffs 
and lay down facing up, but they still remained nervous 
and kept jerking their heads in all directions to maintain 
the watch. One was quite dark in color, the other two 
almost white. 

Circling around the slope so as not to disturb them, 
I ascended for some distance. Ptarmigan were very 
abundant, and the holes of ground-squirrels were every- 
where, though some of the squirrels had retired to hiber- 
nate. A few greeted me with famlhar chatter. To the 
south of the mountain was a vast level meadow swamp 
extending to the lower slopes of Mount Riddell. Moose 
signs were abundant, and I decided to move the camp up 
to timber-line, since the long climb up through the woods 
from the shore of the lake consumed so much time that 
little remained for hunting. 



THE SHEEP OF MOUNT SHELDON 269 

September 2. — In the morning, each with a pack of 
sixty pounds, we slowly toiled upward, fighting the dense 
willows at every step. In the afternoon, timber-line was 
reached and the tent pitched among scattered balsams 
festooned with exquisite black moss hanging like silken 
cobwebs from the branches. We could look down on 
the lake below and command views to the north, east, 
and south. Behind was a long fringe of spruce tops 
adorning the golden horizon, vv^hile the peak of Mount 
Sheldon glistened under the rays of the setting sun. 

September 3. — Three inches of snow fell during the 
night and the wet willows gave me a drenching before 
reaching the south slope of the mountain, which I began 
to climb. A strong, cold wind bringing snow and hail 
came from the west and I was obliged to descend to the 
timber and make a fire to dry my clothes. It cleared at 
noon, and starting up the slope I had not gone far be- 
fore seeing a bull moose just inside some scattered tim- 
ber a mile distant at the west of the swamp meadow, 
where the waters drain to the South Fork of MacMillan 
River. 

His horns were of fair size and he was rubbing them 
against a tree to clear them of the velvet. He would 
either butt the tree or rub vigorously, and continued 
these operations for some time. Then, after feeding for 
awhile, he would begin rubbing on some other tree. 
Once, pushing his horns into the branches of a fallen dead 
tree, as if in a frenzy, he kept tossing it. I watched him 
through my field-glasses for an hour, until he was in a 
place favorable to approach. Then after circling to a 



270 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

point where the wind was right I started toward him. 
The moose, feeding in some willows near a clump of 
spruce trees, was soon out of sight, and I went rapidly 
toward the spot, until within five hundred yards, when 
he suddenly appeared in an opening, and I dropped low. 
He again passed out of sight, and I advanced. Finally, 
I saw him through the spruces a hundred and fifty yards 
away, but the trees were too densely clustered to try a 
shot. Again he disappeared, and going to the left, step 
by step, I approached until soon I could see all of the 
clear area where he had last been feeding, but he was 
not in sight and I knew he was lying down. 

Advancing fifty yards, I saw the tips of his horns. He 
was lying facing me, near a clump of willows. Lying on 
my stomach I crawled along and with rifle at my shoul- 
der, suddenly rose and fired full into his chest. He stif- 
fened out, trembling, and I walked toward him, but to 
my surprise he suddenly struggled to his feet and trot- 
ted fifty yards ahead before he fell dead. After taking 
the scalp and cutting off the head, I cut out fifteen pounds 
of fat and opened his stomach. It contained only willow 
leaves. His horns were shapely and had a spread of 
forty-eight inches; the velvet was entirely off one, and 
some was hanging in strips on the other, where one point 
was still soft. He had a fine bell sixteen inches long. 
Shouldering all, I struggled back to camp. Jefferies 
shouted with enthusiasm when he saw the fat, for the 
meat of the calf was lean and we both craved fat. We 
then sat before a fire of balsam wood which burns beau- 
tifully, without sparking. 



THE SHEEP OF MOUNT SHELDON 271 

September 4. — It began to snow, and the next morning 
four inches covered the ground. It was a beautiful clear 
day and I was soon on the slopes of Mount Sheldon. Af- 
ter ascending diagonally in a north-west direction, I saw 
eight sheep three hundred yards beyond — two rams, each 
six years old, one dark, the other light, together with three 
ewes and three lambs — all quietly feeding. Two of the 
ewes were dark, the other almost white. The white ewe 
had a very dark lamb, while one of the dark ewes had two 
nearly white lambs. I watched them for a long time, but 
did not care to kill one. In color they agreed strictly with 
the sheep found near the MacMillan River. 

Seeing a possible route to the peak of the mountain, 
I began to ascend. Though leather moccasins were dan- 
gerous, I had chosen a path among protruding rocks 
where I hoped to find footing. Step by step I struggled 
upward, often slipping and falling, and after reaching the 
top made up my mind never to attempt another snow- 
covered mountain unless with suitable footgear. When 
I reached the crest of that stupendous granite mountain 
and looked over, instead of seeing rough slopes, I looked 
down into the depths of a magnificent cirque — a vast 
amphitheatre of perpendicular walls falling more than 
three thousand feet to a lake of sapphire blue. Ancient 
ice had carved out a great circular pit resembling a huge, 
deep volcanic crater, the circle of cliffs almost meeting 
toward the north-west, not three hundred feet apart. 
Through this opening a stream trickled out from a lake. 
Time had fashioned the precipice-walls in thousands of 
fantastic shapes, the upper cliffs projecting in pillars. 



272 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

turrets, cones and rough-hewn crags. Scarred, seamed, 
and shattered, cHff upon cUff, ledge upon ledge, the great 
walls reared straight up from the debris below. 

Neither before nor since have I commanded at one 
view such vast areas of forest on all sides. I could see 
both forks of the MacMIllan, the Selwyn ranges, the 
smoother plateau mountains between the MacMIllan and 
the Pelly, the ItsI Mountains, and the distant peaks of 
the Mackenzie ranges across the divide. 

The impression felt when standing on the summit of 
that lone, massive mountain peak, Isolated from other 
high ranges by miles of Intervening wilderness was not 
that caused by silence and grim desolation, although they 
reigned supreme. It was a profound sense of loneliness — 
a loneliness caused by the vacancy of uninterrupted space. 
Never had I felt It In a similar way before. My nature 
was compelled to a stern accord with the upper world of 
sky, rock, and snow. But when I gazed down upon the 
great stretches of wilderness below, the Impressions of 
the world above were transformed Into those produced 
by the beauty and grandeur of the surrounding landscape. 

Walking around the crest I could see no more sheep 
except those below which were peacefully resting. I made 
the descent without disturbing them and returned to camp. 

September 5-6. — I had seen a few old caribou tracks 
on the mountain and the next day we took the sleeping 
robe, a piece of canvas, and some meat, and crossed four 
miles through the woods to timber-line, at Mount RIddell, 
which appeared to be a better range for caribou. There 
we threw the canvas on some inclined poles and filled 




'Time had fashioned the precipice walls i.\ thul sands ujf iantastic shapes,' 

September 4. 




"A VAST AMPHITHEATRE OF PERPENDICULAR WALLS FALLING MORE THAN 3,000 FEET TO A 
LAKE OF SAPPHIRE BLUE," SEPTEMBER 4. 



THE SHEEP OF MOUNT SHELDON 273 

the sides with brush. In the morning I ascended the 
smooth slopes of the mountain, which was of the type 
that caribou prefer for their range. In two hours I was 
on the crest, and after circHng all around it, returned to 
camp by noon. I had observed only a few old caribou 
tracks, and an old, abandoned sheep-trail almost obliter- 
ated by grass and weeds. 

It was clear that a few sheep had once been accus- 
tomed to feed there. It was also clear to me that the 
only sheep in that section of the country were on Mount 
Sheldon, and even there the band was very small, as 
indicated by the fact that the larger rams were with the 
ewes. I had, however, learned the character of the sheep 
in that part of the country, and that was the object of my 
exploration of the Ross. Therefore, I decided to go back 
to the Pelly as quickly as possible, and devote the re- 
mainder of my time to examining the sheep on the moun- 
tains bordering both sides of the river, between the mouth 
of the Ross and that of the MacMillan River. In the 
afternoon we carried all our material to the shore of the 
lake and there passed the night. 

The Ross River country offers no good hunting, except 
for moose, which near the lakes are as abundant as on 
the MacMillan. But since the mountain area is so 
limited that few draws are favorable for finding them, the 
topography of the country, compared with that of the 
MacMillan, makes it most inferior as a place for success- 
ful moose hunting. I saw a few old bear diggings, de- 
monstrating that grizzlies are there, but the lack of more 
open country would be unfavorable for seeing them in the 



274 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

spring. Keele, who spent the winter on Sheldon Lake In 
1907-1908, found moose very abundant everywhere, but 
saw only five or six caribou near Mount RIddell. He 
observed no sheep on Mount Sheldon, and probably the 
small band I had seen there will decrease to the point of 
extinction, If any still exist.* 

I observed the same varieties of birds as on the Mac- 
Mlllan. In the Yukon territory bird-life in the summer 
and fall is not great In variety and birds are not observed 
so often as in the spring. On the Ross and at the lakes 
Alaska jays were about camp all the time. Rabbits, red 
squirrels, ground-squirrels, marmots, and red-backed 
mice were the common small mammals. The vast spruce 
forests yielded to former trappers abundant martens, 
lynxes, and some minks, but foxes are rather scarce. 
During the winter Keele saw a great many wolves, which 
usually were gathered in bands to hunt moose. 

September 7-9. — As we paddled through the lakes early 
in the morning, numerous whistling swans were floating 
on the surface. Later, Lewis told me that thousands 
came to these lakes in October. We paddled down the 
river for three days. The whole country was aflame with 
brilliant fall colors. The areas covered by huckleberry 
bushes were deep carmine in contrast to the bright-red 
leaves of the currant bushes along the river banks; yel- 
low and gold streamed out from the poplars and willows, 
while the scattered birches reflected charming tints of 
green, delicately shading into the others; splashes of 

* Keele does not think that there are any other sheep in any of the 
mountains bordering the Ross River. 




Camp at foot of Mount Riddell, September 6. 




Indian cache near a bar of the Ross River, September 8. 



THE SHEEP OF MOUNT SHELDON 275 

crimson among the dry, gray tufts of the burnt spruce 
timber glowed In the sun, while the network of leafless 
branches assumed an exquisite blue. 

Smoothly and rapidly we glided down the river among 
the gay colors under sunny skies. An occasional mink 
slipped along the bank and once I saw a black bear, but 
it went In the woods before I could stop the canoe. 
Another time, as we were silently gliding by a dead log, 
not ten feet away, my eye caught a female lynx stretched 
at length on It, trusting to her color blending with the log 
to hide her. But as we floated by, I saw her In time and 
killed her. From the outlet of Lewis Lake we had paddled 
twenty hours and twenty-five minutes to reach the Pelly. 
We accepted the chances and ran through both Prevost 
Canon and the heavy rapids below, and continued pad- 
dling until September 9, when we reached Nahanni House 
and found that all the Indians had departed and were 
scattered to hunt moose, Lewis having arrived with am- 
munition a few days before. 

Old Danger^ still lame, was peacefully feeding on the 
other side of the river. But later In the fall he was killed 
for dog food. 

On reaching Nahanni House we craved, first sugar, 
and then bread and tea. After our meat diet, these pro- 
vided a feast more delicate to the palate than the choicest 
viands served to the gourmandlzing man of the city. We 
rested for a day and then started down the Pelly River. 



CHAPTER XVIII 

THE ROSE MOUTAINS— 1905 

September II. — Under the azure sky of a calm Indian 
summer day, surrounded by gorgeous color, the broad sur- 
face of the charming Pelly floated our canoe along, as the 
swift current, assisted by our paddles, bore us rapidly 
around the sweeping curves and along the wide bars and 
fantastically escarped banks. The mountains above were 
white with snow, the terraces below them brilliant in 
contrast. As the Pelly range faded from sight, the Glen- 
lyons came into view. Goshawks were then very numer- 
ous along the river and I saw two different ones, each at 
a different place, chasing a kingfisher. Once I saw one 
chasing a herring gull, and, another time, one chasing a 
raven. Different flocks of red-breasted mergansers scur- 
ried down the current ahead of us all day. 

September 12. — We camped just before dark, and in 
the morning, after paddling forty minutes, reached Rose's 
cabin. As we landed, he stepped out on the bank to wel- 
come us, with that taciturnity and lack of demonstration 
always acquired by those who habitually live alone in 
the woods. He had been there two years and had con- 
structed a V-shaped cabin without even a window. It 
was banked with earth from the ridgepole to the ground 
and hence, though gloomy, was very warm in the winter. 

He was an old man about sixty, who, after having spent 

270 



THE ROSE MOUNTAINS 277 

several years without success In locating a mining claim, 
had come up on the Pelly, "to trap and prospect/* as he 
said. "To trap and prospect!" the final stage In the ca- 
reer of numerous unsuccessful prospectors In that north- 
ern country. It means coming to the country full of hope 
and ambition, lured to endure Its hardships by a burn- 
ing desire of finding the gold where nature has milled it 
into dust and nuggets, so that the individual miner has 
only to dig out the gravel and wash It. After a year or 
two of hard work, In the midst of other men more suc- 
cessful, the grubstake becomes exhausted before anything 
is found, but the golden flame burns even brighter than 
before. The prospector must then build his cabin far 
off in the woods and trap through the winter In order to 
secure enough fur to exchange for supplies suflliclent to 
enable him to work his claim during the summer. It 
may not produce, and then he must try another. Re- 
peated failures dim the flame and deaden the ambition, 
and new country is sought where animals may be trapped 
to exchange for a new grubstake with which to prospect 
for a new discovery. By this time the man has become 
accustomed to a life of mere existence and Is unfitted 
for anything else. Still, for some time he calls himself 
a "trapper and prospector." After this stage, he soon 
acquires the habit of living entirely alone, which often 
marks the beginning of hallucinations, sooner or later, 
usually, developing Into insanity. In proportion to the 
population of white men, there is more Insanity In those 
far northern countries than in any other part of our con- 
tinent. 



278 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

We pitched our tent near his cabin and made up the 
packs which would cause our shoulders to ache the next 
day. In the afternoon I took a walk through the woods 
and circled around to the shore of a long slough, half a 
mile below the cabin, which I named Rose Slough. The 
shore was hard clay and contained the tracks of a moose 
which looked so fresh that I concluded they had been 
made the night before. But Rose told me that they had 
been there for eighteen days — which only goes to show 
how easily one can be deceived as to the age of the tracks 
of hoofed animals. 

The day before, Rose had constructed a set-gun two 
miles below on the river, for a bear, and that evening 
asked Jefferies' advice as to his method of constructing 
it. *' Absolutely wrong!" was Jefferies' verdict. "Im- 
possible for the bear to set it off." My own judgment 
seconded his opinion. Then it was explained how a set- 
gun should be arranged, and Rose decided to go down 
river the next morning and reconstruct it according to 
expert advice. 

September 13. — As he left, we burdened our shoulders 
with the packs and struggled upward through the brushy 
woods. Behind a succession of benches and terraced 
ridges the range of mountains rises, rugged and bold, to a 
crest culminating in peaks from five thousand eight hun- 
dred feet to six thousand two hundred feet in height. I 
named this range the Rose Mountains, as a tribute to the 
old man, who will probably spend his last days beneath 
them on the banks of the Pelly. For five hours we climbed 
up through a deep draw, and emerged at timber-line on 




The Rose Mountains, July 20. 




Mr, Rose and his cabin, September 12. 



THE ROSE MOUNTAINS 279 

the north side of the range. There we constructed a 
canvas shelter and made camp. Later, before we slept, 
the moon shed its glory on the snow-covered mountains 
enclosing us. 

September 14. — Early the next morning I climbed one 
of the smooth, dome-shaped mountains to the north, and 
spent the whole day travelling over their summits. To 
the north, I could see the whole country between the 
Pelly, MacMillan, and Ross Rivers — a country different 
in character from any other draining to the Pelly. It has 
more the character of a vast, uneven plateau eroded into 
wide, basin-shaped valleys, with high, dome-like moun- 
tains grouped without any regulat trend. Most of them 
rise above timber, some are very massive, others ex- 
tremely subdued. They are, first of all, caribou ranges, 
and the extensive willow growth marks a fine country 
for moose. It is quite probable that here and there on 
the summits small bands of sheep may range, but it is 
also doubtful if they wander far from the Rose Moun- 
tains. 

While scanning the valleys beyond, I saw smoke 
curling up one of the slopes far to the north-east. It 
undoubtedly came from a camp of the Pelly Indians who 
were hunting moose and caribou. There were no sheep 
tracks in those smooth mountains, but caribou tracks 
were everywhere, none of them very fresh. Ground- 
squirrels were still out, and great flocks of ptarmigan 
were flying about the slopes. Late in the afternoon, as I 
was looking through my field-glasses over on the Rose 
Mountains, sixteen or seventeen sheep appeared, but they 



28o THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

were too far away to observe their color or sex. I reached 
camp at dark when the air was crisp and frosty. 

September 15. — Early in the morning I was high on 
the slopes of Rose Mountain, and after reaching the crest 
saw eleven ewes and lambs lying down two hundred 
yards below me. A heavy snow blizzard suddenly de- 
scended and lasted for an hour, while I sat sheltered from 
the wind by a rock. The sky cleared as quickly as it had 
darkened, and moving to a point where I could get a 
good view of the sheep, I watched them. All were of 
the same color as the sheep in the Pelly Mountains — 
bodies and legs gray and necks and heads light or white. 
They were browsing and one continued to rub her body 
against a stiff willow. The lambs also browsed like the 
ewes. 

Without molesting them, I climbed the peak and could 
look across the Pelly and see both the Pelly and the 
Glenlyon Mountains. The crest of Rose Mountain is 
about five miles long and culminates at an altitude of 
six thousand two hundred feet. The slopes are steep, 
with a series of jutting crags extending far down, enclos- 
ing troughs between them. These troughs are grassy, 
and favorite feeding-places for sheep. 

By noting the more densely wooded character of the 
slopes on the north side of the Pelly River east of Rose 
Mountain, Dr. Dawson had inferred that this increased 
growth was owing to greater humidity — because of a prob- 
able gap existing between the western end of the Pelly 
range and the Glenlyons. This inference was correct, 
for I could plainly see the gap, and Rose told me that 



THE ROSE MOUNTAINS 281 

the Little Salmon River headed there, not far from the 
Pelly. 

I went along the crest to the west end of the range, 
and there had to endure another snow blizzard which 
lasted two hours. Then I saw about seventeen ewes and 
lambs not a hundred and fifty yards away. All were of 
the same varying color as the others seen on the same 
mountain. None of the sheep observed in Rose Mountain 
acted as "sentinels," but they were as restless and active 
as ewes generally are. After watching them for an hour, I 
left without disturbing them and returned to camp. I had 
seen two fresh caribou tracks on the mountain, great quan- 
tities of ptarmigan, a few ground-squirrels and marmots. 

That night, as I was lying under the shelter and look- 
ing down the basin, then filled with mist, while the sur- 
rounding mountain-crests were bathed in a ghastly light 
shed by the moon, and complete silence reigned over the 
weird scene, the grunting of a bull moose sounded a 
hundred yards behind me. Nearer and nearer out of the 
gloom came the sound, but not a stick cracked, not a foot- 
step was heard. Still nearer it came, until only forty 
feet away, but although I strained my eyes to penetrate 
the dimly lighted mist, I could see nothing. Not a sound 
was audible except the regular grunting, which now began 
to grow more distant and finally ceased, on the opposite 
side of the basin. 

September 16. — The next morning we returned to the 
Pelly and found that Rose had the skin of a small female 
black bear stretched on a frame. Not even a humorous 
twinkle beamed in his eyes when he told us that when 



282 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

he had arrived to reconstruct the set-gun, he found that 
the bear had already discharged it and killed herself. 

September ij. — The last three frosty nights and the 
cold winds had done their cruel work and killed the 
foliage. Snow covered the slopes, the willow leaves near 
the river were brown, the golden glow of the poplars had 
gone, and the leaves were falling fast. From a landscape 
of brilliant color to one of brown and gray the transition 
had been abrupt. 

We were again gliding down the Felly under an over- 
cast sky, in a raw, cold wind, bringing at intervals flurries 
of rain. Twenty-five miles below we passed a large creek 
coming from the north. I had seen it flowing through a 
fine valley north of Rose Mountain. It had not been 
named, so I called it Rose Creek. 

As the afternoon hours pass by when one is sitting 
in the bow of a canoe, silently paddling, with rifle ready 
by his side, a deep fascination is added to the charm of 
gliding down those parts of the rivers where game is 
abundant. At any moment, a moose — that monarch of 
the northern forest — may appear on the bars; a bear may 
be seen swimming or moving among the willows; a lynx 
may be observed sitting on the bank; a fox playing on 
the shore, or a wolf skulking in the shadows. On the 
tangents, the eyes are continually strained to detect an 
animal far ahead, and when going around the curves the 
eagerness becomes intense. Later, as the sun goes low, 
the aspect of every inanimate thing changes, and from a 
distance many objects so resemble an animal as to impel 
the eyes to a close scrutiny. 



THE ROSE MOUNTAINS 283 

About four in the afternoon, just before reaching the 
Tay River, where the Pelly curves sharply around a bar 
bordering a flat of fine poplar trees, we heard a loud 
crack back in the woods. As we rapidly glided around 
the curve and approached a favorable wind, another crack 
sounded, and then another. The moose were rutting, 
and I thought that the noise was made by a bull knock- 
ing his horns against a tree. We dropped down to the 
lower end of the bar, quietly paddled to the shore, and I 
stepped into the woods. Fortunately the wind came from 
the direction of the noise, and I was wearing moosehide 
moccasins — the best of all footgear to muffle the foot- 
steps. The undergrowth was not dense and I could see 
well ahead through a fine poplar grove. 

As I entered the woods a rabbit ran away, thumping 
the ground to the right. I paused some time to listen, 
but not a sound was audible, except the rustling of the 
leaves on the trees. Then, step by step, I cautiously ad- 
vanced, and, nearing the spot where the noise had sounded, 
saw another rabbit skipping away to the left. I stood for 
several minutes and listened, but could not hear a sound. 
Just as I was about to return I saw the dusky form of a 
lynx, fifty feet ahead, apparently following with noiseless 
tread the trail of the rabbit. Its grayish color blended so 
perfectly with the fallen leaves and poplar trunks that I 
could scarcely distinguish it as it glided along. Raising 
my rifle and following the lynx as best I could, a favorable 
opportunity was presented as it passed through the dense 
poplar growth, and I fired, knocking it down. But it 
jumped up and was running in zigzag leaps as I fired 



284 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

three more shots, each missing. By that time it had 
circled to a point fifty feet ahead of me, and after the 
last shot It squatted down. I could see blood streaming 
from Its chest, and holding the rifle to my shoulder I 
covered it, but did not fire the last cartridge, thinking 
that the lynx would expire. 

A sudden rustling of the leaves caused me to turn my 
head, and I was startled to see a large black bear walking 
not ten feet away, and apparently looking at the wounded 
lynx. It stopped just as I saw It, and with one foot 
raised and head held high, it seemed to watch the lynx. 
Quickly swinging my rifle, I fired full into Its chest. It 
gave a great spring, and, clutching its chest, reeled, half 
running in a short circle, and dropped almost at my feet. 
It kicked twice and died just six feet in front of me. The 
lynx was In the same position. Quickly reloading, I 
whistled for Jefferies, who came running into the woods. 
As he approached, the lynx began to move off In awkward 
leaps and we followed. After a short distance it again 
lay down and I killed It with a club. Jefferies went for 
my kodak as I brought the lynx to the bear, and after 
photographing both, we carried them to the canoe, and 
an hour later reached Jefferies' old cabin opposite the 
Glenlyon range, where he had spent the winter two years 
before. 

September 18-21. — The black bear was a mature male, 
five feet one and a half Inches long. In the afternoon, 
while we were fleshing the skin, Jefferies saw two wolves 
about four hundred yards above on a bar. I hurried 
through the woods, but before I could come near enough 



'^".■n 




-^•3Ji! 



■■I. \ 













'Dropped almost at my feet,'' September 17. 








JhiiEkiKS CABIN, September 19. 



THE ROSE MOUNTAINS 285 

for a reasonable shot, they were swimming the river and 
soon a third one followed them. Arriving on the opposite 
bank, all three trotted along until lost to sight. 

During the day thousands of little brown cranes, In 
large flocks, passed over, all going south. I noticed that 
each flock on arriving at a point just below us, became con- 
fused and paused in its flight, circling higher and higher, 
until at last, when high in the heavens, almost lost to 
sight, it found its course and filed away in a V-shaped 
wedge to the south-west. Large flocks of geese also 
passed over, and several flocks of ducks. 

We dragged the carcass of the bear well below the 
cabin In the hope of later finding a wolf feeding upon it. 
All along close to the Pelly great horned owls were very 
common, and rabbits were at their maximum of abun- 
dance. The next three days were boisterous, the equi- 
noctial storm having descended, and we could not start 
for the mountains; fog, snow, and rain held us prisoners 
In the cabin. We craved meat, and, walking through the 
dripping brush in the morning, killed six rabbits. In 
September rabbits are very fat, and after hanging for a 
few days are excellent to eat. Ravens, gulls, and Alaska 
jays feasted on the bear carcass, but no larger animal 
came to it while we were there. The ravens first picked 
holes through the belly and pulled out the entrails to get 
at the fat attached to them. Several large flocks of her- 
ring gulls were seen flying down the river, and numerous 
flocks of migrating birds passed through the fog and rain. 



CHAPTER XIX 

THE GLENLYON MOUNTAINS— 1905 

September 22. — With heavy packs we started on the 
morning of September 22 for the Glenlyon Mountains, 
and after fighting through willows and travelling over 
benches, reached a creek flowing through a draw which 
extended well up in the ranges. After five hours we had 
ascended two thousand feet, from the river to timber-line, 
and were well within the outside range. A broad, rolling 
mountain valley spread out on both sides of a fine willow 
draw, and camp was made among some scattered spruces. 
Two pieces of canvas were tied together and thrown over 
inclined poles in the form of a shelter, from which we had 
an outlook over the whole valley. 

September 23. — It was near zero in the night, and the 
following day was calm, cloudless, and mild. I climbed 
to the crest of the mountain north-east of camp and was 
then almost directly above the Pelly River, which wound 
in a wide curve below me. I could see all the mountains 
along the MacMillan River — the Kalzas range. Plateau 
Mountain, the Dromedary Mountain, the Russell Moun- 
tains, and more dimly the peaks of those between the 
Forks. All were covered with snow. 

The Glenlyons, trending in ranks, stretched away to 

the south-west. They are rugged and bold, like the Pelly 

286 




Looking down on "Detour" of Pelly — ranges along MacMillan in distance, 

September 2^. 




Glenlyons toward south-west — Tay River Mountains in distance, September 23. 



THE GLENLYON MOUNTAINS 287 

range, but with more dome-shaped tops, the peaks reared 
up from five to seven thousand feet. The Glenlyons are 
mostly granite, and the width of the ranges is about ten 
miles. 

The wind had not yet swept off any of the snow that 
had fallen during the storm, and walking along the top 
was tedious. I noticed rabbit tracks on the very top, 
and a few ground-squirrels were still out. I travelled all 
day along the summits and over the peaks without seeing 
a sign of sheep until five in the afternoon, when I saw 
nine ewes and lambs, half a mile away, walking along 
a crest extending in a north direction. While watching 
them as they kept pausing to paw out the snow, sixteen 
others suddenly came in sight, crossing a saddle toward 
the south side of the mountain I was on. 

Wading through deep snow I climbed over the top 
and going down on the other side to a point where I could 
see the sheep found myself in plain sight as they were 
approaching. It was too late to return, so I found some 
rocks near, and crawling to them concealed myself and 
watched the sheep. All were of the same color as the 
sheep in the Pelly Mountains. They kept advancing, 
now and then stopping to feed, until reaching the crest 
they passed above me and soon were out of sight. They 
crossed my trail without noticing it. After allowing time 
for them to gain sufficient distance, I ascended to the 
crest and observed their trail on the snow. The tracks 
followed the crest two hundred yards and then led down 
the mountain-side, almost directly above our camp. I 
decided to kill, if possible, two two-year-old rams which 



288 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

were with the ewes, and a ewe which I intended to bring 
back to Skagway for my friend Newell, Vice-President 
of the White Pass Railway. 

While the dark, wide valley of the Pelly River, stretch- 
ing away to the white mountains beyond, was before me 
on one side, and the snow fields and peaks of the Glen- 
lyons merged into a golden horizon below a gorgeous 
crimson sky on the other, I slowly walked along the crest, 
fearful that the grating noise of my footsteps breaking 
through the crust would alarm the sheep. Reaching the 
point where the tracks led down the slope, I saw all of 
them two hundred yards below, about to cross a deep 
canon which furrowed the mountain-side. It was 6.30 
in the evening and rapidly getting dark. At the first shot 
a small ram fell dead. The band rushed closely together 
and paused to look. A second shot killed the other ram. 
One ewe still stood and looked, while the rest of the band 
dashed down into the canon. As I fired she fell, but rose 
and began to run diagonally up the slope. My next two 
shots missed and after putting in a clip of cartridges, I 
fired again and she fell and rolled. 

Quickly going down to the first one killed, I skinned 
the hind quarters and cut them off. It was then dark 
and I had before me the dangerous task of carrying them 
down the steep, slippery slope. It was finally accom- 
plished and that night we again feasted on mutton. 

September 24. — The next morning Jefferies went to 
bring back the dead sheep, which could be seen from 
camp. We intended to take ofi^ their skins later. I started 
toward the south-east mountains, but after having crossed 



THE GLENLYON MOUNTAINS 289 

the valley, a snow storm descended and I was obliged to 
return to camp. Foxes had completely eaten up the re- 
mainder of the ram I had first killed. The two others 
were In camp. 

September 25-26. — The next day a heavy snow fell all 
the morning and a dense fog settled In the afternoon, so 
I could not go out. This fog continued also through the 
following day. We spent most of the time sitting before 
the fire. There was a fine grove of dry burnt spruces near 
the shelter. Dry spruce Is the main fuel supply of northern 
camps. If thoroughly hard and dry It does not spark, 
though It Is quickly consumed. After a grove of spruce 
is burned over, at least two years are required before the 
charred trunks dry to perfection for burning. Dry balsam 
makes a much better fire, burning steadily without a spark, 
and is not consumed so quickly. Not often, however, is 
the camp pitched where balsam Is abundant. Dry poplar 
makes a beautiful fire, very hot, no sparks, and steadily 
burning. It Is the best of all fires for baking bread. But 
It smothers In Its own ashes, which quickly accumulate, 
and for that reason It is not used In a stove if other wood 
can be found. Dry willow makes a hot fire, but the smoke 
is unendurable. Alder, like poplar, accumulates ash, but 
It is the best of all the northern fuel-wood to burn when 
green. The most perfect wood Is, of course, white birch, 
but it Is so scarce that It can be eliminated from the fuel 
used by the camper in Yukon Territory and Alaska. 

September 27. — ^The fog did not lift until the third day 
at noon and I was soon climbing a low mountain south- 
west of camp. There was not a track of any kind on the 



290 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

snow in the valley, except that of the fox and the rabbit. 
Late in the afternoon I saw seven ewes and lambs lying 
on the snow on a slope of an adjacent mountain. They 
were colored like the others and, after resting, they started 
single file for a new feeding-ground, walking, running, 
and jumping over the rocks and rough places. 

September 28. — I started early and toiled upward to 
reach the peak of a high mountain south-east of camp, 
hoping finally to find the larger rams, for I wanted a big 
one from the Glenlyons. Just before noon I stood on 
the apex, fifty-two hundred feet above the river. A vio- 
lent storm suddenly descended — a raging snow blizzard — 
and I had to hold on to a projecting rock to keep from 
being blown off. Fog settled around, and the blasts of 
wind whirled the snow in violent eddies about me, filling 
my neck and even blowing up the inside of my trousers. 
It lasted three hours and I was so cold it did not seem 
possible to endure it much longer. The wild desolation 
of that blizzard, shutting everything from sight and sus- 
pending me in tumultuous clouds, produced a feeling of 
profound loneliness. During the storm I heard flocks 
of ptarmigan going by, and now and then a croaking 
raven. After it cleared, I went down from the peak to the 
crest and walked along it all the rest of the day, but saw 
no animals. When about to return I started to cross a 
steep slope of hard snow lying solid for two hundred 
yards, and after going well out in it, it proved steeper 
than I had thought and I could look two thousand feet 
almost directly down. Without axe or staff, and wearing 
rubber shoes with small hobnails, my situation soon be- 




Highest peaks of Glenlyons, opposite Tay River, September 23. 




Glenlyons looking south from same point, September 2'- 



THE GLENLYON MOUNTAINS 291 

came alarming. Taking out my knife I had to cut steps 
through a crust too hard to break with my feet, and my 
anxiety was only relieved when I finally stepped upon the 
rocks of a ridge I had to cross in order to shorten the 
descent to the valley. 

September 29. — The next day, the last that I could 
spare for hunting in the Glenlyon Mountains, was clear 
and cold. Starting early, I walked rapidly up the valley 
to the forks of the creek. On a mountain beyond the 
forks I saw a single ewe with a lamb, both travelling rap- 
idly; the ewe was especially alert and watchful. Often 
I have seen these single ewes, detached for one reason 
or another from their band, hastening to find it. When 
alone they always suffer from intensified sense of danger. 

I then climbed a high mountain to the east, and, pass- 
ing over its crest, saw on the other side a mountainous 
country of rolling slopes filled with caiions and ravines, 
all leading up to a rough range beyond. Three hundred 
yards below me were two ewes, each with a lamb, and 
a small ram. Carefully concealing myself among some 
rocks, I was interested in testing their sense of hearing. 
Several marmots, nearer to them than I was, had been 
whistling. The sheep were quite indifferent to the sound. 
If there is any animal sound in the Northern wilderness 
that can be easily imitated, it is the whistle of the marmot, 
and I thought that my whistle was a perfect reproduction 
of the original. But when I gave it the sheep at once 
threw up their heads and looked. After a few moments 
they began to feed. Not fifty yards to my right a marmot 
again whistled. They were utterly indlfterent. But at 



292 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

my second whistle, shortly after, they ran about for a 
few feet and looked above and below in anxiety. They 
were able to distinguish instantly between the genuine 
and the imitation. It must not be inferred, however, that 
the marmot's whistle does not alarm sheep, for often they 
receive the sound as a warning and become nervous and 
watchful. Then I began to drop pebbles. It was abso- 
lutely still and as I threw a small stone on some rocks a 
few feet below the sheep at once ran down the slope and 
disappeared, 

A quarter of a mile beyond were twelve ewes and 
lambs and I could trace their tracks coming down from 
the high crest beyond. Along their trails the slope, in 
places where they had pawed away the snow, had the 
appearance of a checker-board. Though keeping a care- 
ful lookout in all directions, no one of them acted the part 
of a sentinel. The ewes with lambs would butt the lambs 
away if they approached too close to them when they 
were feeding. The lambs were pawing away snow just 
like the ewes. All were of the color of the other sheep I 
had seen in the Glenlyon Mountains. I withdrew without 
disturbing them and returned to camp. 

September 30. — The next morning we each brought a 
load to Jefferies' cabin. 

Sheep are abundant in the Glenlyon Mountains, which 
are the most accessible for sheep hunting of any of the 
ranges near the Felly River. But no other kinds of game 
were observed, and, except in the spring for bears (whose 
old diggings were abundant), the hunting must be limited 
to sheep. Fine large willow draws exist everywhere 




Camp in Glenlyons, September 29. 



^liltesaM^ 




Ready to load the canoe. Glenlyons across river, October 



THE GLENLYON MOUNTAINS 293 

among the ranges and willow is abundant on all the 
slopes. All the Glenlyons are fine ranges for moose, but 
I did not see even an old track, nor were any of the wil- 
lows mutilated by their browsing. In the lower country 
outside of the range, moose signs were abundant. 

No signs of caribou were observed. It is strange that 
when wolves were so near, no tracks appeared in the 
snow above near the sheep. Foxes were more abundant 
in the Glenlyons than in any of the country near the Pelly 
where I had been. 

October I. — Jefiferies went up to the camp the next 
day to bring back the rest of the meat, and I tramped 
five miles north of the river to a fair-sized lake, more 
to see the country than anything else. It had all been 
burned over and was full of tangled, fallen timber. While 
returning late in the afternoon I must have seen several 
hundred rabbits. That year was the period of maxi- 
mum abundance of the rabbits, but the following year 
they were scarce. 

October 2-3. — The river had fallen several inches dur- 
ing the time we had been up in the Glenlyons, and all the 
trees were bare. The whole country was ready and wait- 
ing for winter to seal it up. For the next two days we 
paddled without incident, except the sight of two lynxes 
at different places on the bank of the river. My bullets 
failed to hit them. Lynxes do not appear to be frightened 
by a canoe floating by. I have seen many sitting indiffer- 
ently on the bank and watching the canoe if it is near 
the middle of the river, or crouching in a hiding attitude 
if it is close to the bank. That year when rabbits were so 



294 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

abundant, we must have passed numerous lynxes with- 
out seeing them. So well do they blend with the color 
of the rocks on the bars, or with the trunks of the trees 
or faded leaves, that it is difficult to detect them. 

The second evening we reached the cabin at the 
mouth of the MacMillan River, and later Hosfall arrived, 
having come from Kalzas Creek for the purpose of wait- 
ing for me and of delivering some skulls of sheep and cari- 
bou which had been killed in the Kalzas Mountains. 
From his description of the color of the sheep there, I 
knew they varied exactly like those in the mountains near 
the North Fork of the MacMillan. A fine large skull of 
a male otter with a note from Mrs. Hosfall, was found 
in the cabin. Her experience in killing that otter, whose 
skull is now in the Biological Survey in Washington, 
merits description. 

While occupying the cabin in the latter part of July, 
she had a net for salmon stretched across an eddy in the 
river. One morning, when her husband was back in the 
woods, she saw an otter swimming across the river in the 
direction of the net. At the same time, one of her large 
dogs noticed it and immediately jumped in and swam to 
intercept it. She thought that the otter would get caught 
in the net and quickly jumped in her canoe and began 
poling toward it. She was not mistaken, for the otter 
became entangled in the meshes and was struggling to 
get loose when the dog arrived and grabbed it, both going 
under the water and struggling in the net. Mrs. Hosfall 
quickly arrived, and while one hand held the canoe steady 
with the pole, with the other she grasped the dog's tail 




Indian Grave on bank of pelly, 25 miles above mouth of MacMillan, October 3. 




Trappers' line cabin on MacMillan Mountain, October 



•** 







Moose trail on top of the MacMillan Mountains, October 5. 



THE MacMILLAN MOUNTAINS 295 

and pulled him into the canoe. His jaws were closed on 
the otter, which was hauled in with him, together with 
part of the net. 

Then dog and otter, both entangled in the net, began 
to struggle in the cranky canoe which Mrs. Hosfall had 
to balance with nothing but a pole. But she was equal 
to it. In some way pulling off the dog, she grasped the 
hind leg of the otter and killed it with the pole. Few 
men could have successfully accomplished such a feat, 
and may this record of it stand as a suggestion of her 
skill! 

October 4-5. — The next day a rain storm prevented 
my setting out to climb the MacMillan Mountains, but 
the day after it was clear, and after following for some 
distance a trapper's blazed trail, I struggled through the 
timber and began the ascent of the slopes. It was a climb 
of three and a half hours from the river to the top, which 
was buried under deep snow. 

The highest peak of the MacMillan Mountains, an 
irregular, dome-shaped crest extending three or more 
miles in a semicircle, curving north at its west end, cul- 
minates at the extreme western extension of the range. I 
found it heart-breaking to wade through the deep snow, 
but finally reaching the highest point rested and looked 
over the country. All the Kalzas mountains seemed close 
on the north-east — rugged granite ranges with serried, 
battlemented peaks. I could see Kalzas Lake and the 
mountains along the MacMillan River for a long distance. 
Broad, deep valleys separated the Kalzas range from the 
MacMillan Mountains, and judging by the appearance 



296 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

of the country, it must be a fine range for moose. A beau- 
tiful view of the junction of the Felly and MacMillan 
Rivers was below me, and the subdued rolling wilderness 
stretched out in the distance to the south and west. Still 
farther to the west I could faintly see the bluffs near 
Felly Road Crossing, six miles from the Yukon River. 

Tramping about I saw no signs of sheep, but caribou 
tracks were abundant. A bull moose had crossed over the 
mountain that morning or the night before. His deep 
trail along the side of the mountain, winding up over the 
crest, and continuing down to the timber on the other 
side indicated his search for a cow. A wolverine's tracks 
followed the crest for some distance until lost among the 
wind-swept rocks. Flocks of ptarmigan were flying about, 
but all ground-squirrels were asleep, and I returned to 
camp. 

October 6-7. — We resumed the canoe trip down the 
river, and two days of steady paddling brought us to Sel- 
kirk on October 7. 

When the Selkirk Indians saw the sheep skins as I 
unloaded them, they told me that many of the sheep in 
the mountains near the head of Selwyn River were of a 
similar color. One of the Indians had in his cabin two 
skins of sheep that he had killed there, and I went to look 
at them. They were much lighter in color than the light- 
est Felly Mountain sheep, but intermediate between the 
types of Ovis Jannini and Ovis dalli, approximating the 
latter. Since the Selkirk Indians find sheep within the 
limits of their hunting territory only to the west of the 
Yukon River, I regard their statements as to the color of 




m^. :*^«s*^ 



,.■* i 



Junction of MacMillan and Pelly Rivers as seen from top of MacMillan 
Mountain, Octo'ber ^. 




MacMillan Mountains, October 5. 



THE MacMILLAN MOUNTAINS 297 

the sheep near the Selwyn River as rehable, and I so ob- 
tained a most Interesting record. 

October 9 — The steamer Selkirk whistled and I had 
to part from Jefferles. It was with deep regret that I 
grasped his hand and said good-by. He had been effi- 
cient in every way, and, what counts more than anything 
else, he had always been cheerful and willing to undertake 
the hard work of that eventful summer. During all the 
days that I had been hunting, he had been content to 
remain In camp while I was getting the sport. I am glad 
to record his good qualities. 

Travelling without stopping longer than necessary to 
make connections by boat and rail, I reached New York 
October 24th. 

I had established the fact that nearly all sheep on the 
mountains adjacent to the Pelly River are of approxi- 
mately the same color. Also that those near the Ross 
are of the same color as those near the MacMIllan. The 
Pelly sheep, though variable, are Intermediate between 
Ovis fannini and Ovis stonei, approaching more nearly 
the color of the latter. The sheep near the MacMIllan 
and Ross Rivers throughout the Selwyn Rockies are so 
variable that as a whole their color cannot be defined. 
The variation continues on the Stewart River, where 
lighter shades begin to predominate farther north. In 
the Ogilvies, the intermediate color between Ovis fannini 
and Ovis dalli Is common, though variations range 
between the two, and the majority of the sheep can be 
referred to dalli. Not much farther north, all the sheep 
are white. 



298 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

The type color of Ovis Jannini is so rare, even in the 
mountains from which the type came, that numerous 
sheep might be killed before one could be found to coin- 
cide with the description. Now and then it exists among 
the variables. 

I have learned from sources which I accept as reliable, 
that the sheep in the Teslin and Atlin Lakes districts are 
in color like those on the MacMillan, more variables occur- 
ring among them. Nearer the Yukon, lighter colored 
sheep predominate, and among the white sheep north of 
the Yukon a few intermediates are exceptionally found in 
the Watson River country, and perhaps easterly, wherever 
sheep exist, as far as the mountains near the head of 
Selwyn River. Farther north, west of the Yukon River, 
all are white, except for a few gray hairs in the sheep in 
the Tanana Hills. 

The variation in the color of the sheep in the Yukon 
Territory having, therefore, been settled, I resolved to 
make future explorations in the far interior of Alaska. 




Map of Yukon Tf 

The distribution of sli 



JH^ 

o 



•t..^ 



I 



TyiR-. 



Fi<-,. 5. 07'/.'.-/,, 



V]t,. o. Ot'/s s/iiiiri, Type. 



L' 




X 



^ 




Distribution Areas. 

A — Occupied by Fig. i 
{Ovis dajli) exclusively. 

B — Ogilvie Rockies occu- 
pied by Figs. 2-3-4, 
exceptionally Fig. 5 in 
eastern section. Figs. 2 
and 3 greatly in the ma- 
jority. Between Yukon 
and Tanana Rivers oc- 
cupied mostly by Fig. 2 
with much less black on 
tail, occasionally Fig. i. 
West oj Lewes River oc- 
cupied by Figs. I and 2 
in the majority. Figs. 
2-3-4-5 exceptionally. 

C — Occupied by Figs. 2- 
3-4-5-6-7. Figs. 3- 
4-5-6 most common. 
Intermediate colors be- 
tween 2 and 3 equally 
common. 

D — Occupied by Figs. 4- 
5-6-7-8. Figs. 5-6-7 
in the majority. Ten- 
dency toward lighter 
colors in the north. 
Fig. 4 exceptional in the 
north, still more so tow- 
ard the south. Fig. 9 
occasionally in the 
south. 

E — Occupied by Fig. 9 
{Ovis stonei). Rarely 
Figs. 6 and 7 are found 
in this area. 



I'lG. 4. Fiu. 8. 

Plate illustrating distribution of sheep in areas indicated on map. 

gures 1-5-9 were drawn from the Types. The other figures are from .specimens illustrating the average colors, but 
actually every intermediate graduation of color occurs respectively between each. 






ard the souir 
occasionall 
south. 


E- 


-Occupied b 
(Ot-is slonri). 
FiiTS. 6 and 7 



Map op Yukon Territory, adjacent portions of Alaska, British Columbia, Vnd North-west Territories. 

The distribuu'on ot sheep (Recording to their colors is illustrated hy the colored .ireas, the boundaries of which are, in places, only apprcximalc- 



RATING DISIRIBUI.ON Or SH.EP LN AEE.« LNDICATED ON 

'^ -5-. » „.™ ,„„, ,„, r.p.. Thj f« jS^c^S^J^"* iJIISS.'^i'" 

:lually every inleriiediaK gradiuUon o( color occur, p^ 



S91. 



'(s)e6E 




V6 




3 6 c c ; c z i c c ; c i c ^ 5 c ; J 5 5 ^ ^ S c o 



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00000000000000000000 
2P2P222Q22^"oooonooo 

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CHAPTER XX 

REMARKS ON SOME OF THE ANIMALS OF YUKON 
TERRITORY 

The preceding narrative records accurately the animal 
life observed during my wanderings in Yukon Territory. 
In this chapter I have assembled not only some of the 
facts mentioned, but also those gained from other reliable 
sources. 

SHEEP* 

The habits of all sheep on this continent, existing 
north of the range of the Rocky Mountain sheep Ovis 
canadensis, are the same except in so far as they are 
slightly varied by local topographic and food conditions 
and by the accumulation of snow on their ranges during 
the winter. The environment and the climatic conditions 
where they live are practically the same, their natural 
enemies are the same, and they select and eat the same 
food. All dwell above timber-line, and by nature are 
timid and wild. 

Their body measurements, according to age and sex, 
allowing for slight individual variations in size, are prac- 
tically the same. 

The same statement applies to the size and character 
of their horns. The first Stone sheep brought out from 

* The remarks in this chapter are preliminary to a fuller discussion of habits 
in a future publication. 

299 



300 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

the Stiklne River region had the diverging or *' spread" 
type of horns, and this, therefore, was assigned to them 
as a definite character. But among the numerous speci- 
mens coming from the same region during subsequent 
years, the narrow type of horns has probably been more 
common. 

The diverging type of horns is found in all localities 
where sheep exist, though in some districts it is more 
common than in others. I did not see the diverging type 
among the sheep on the Pelly River, though undoubtedly 
it exists there. It is common among those at the head 
of the MacMillan and Stewart Rivers, and in the Ogilvie 
Rockies. It is particularly common in that part of the 
Yukon Territory close to the coast ranges and directly 
east of them. But, everywhere, the narrow type of horns 
is more abundant; sometimes both types occur together 
in the same band ; sometimes all the members of a band 
have one type of horns, while all the sheep of another 
band in the same locality have the other type. 

What is true of the comparative divergence of the 
horns is equally true of their comparative length, circum- 
ference, and shape. In some districts, including the 
Pelly River and the Ogilvie Rockies, horns of large basal 
circumference (fifteen inches or more) are most excep- 
tional. Big horns are more common in those districts 
where the diverging type is most abundant. 

It thus appears that the northern sheep, wherever they 
live, are subject to essentially the same conditions of en- 
vironment and climate; their food and enemies are es- 
sentially the same, and their natures, their habits, their 



SOME ANIMALS OF YUKON TERRITORY 301 

horns, and their body measurements do not differ materi- 
ally. It remains to examine their skulls and to study their 
variations in color. 

Difference in skull characters have been detected 
among sheep in three widely separate areas: the Stikine 
River region, the east slope of the Mackenzie Rockies, the 
whole of the areas inhabited by sheep elsewhere; but as 
yet no satisfactory study has been made, since the avail- 
able series of adult skulls from each locality have not been 
brought together for careful comparison. Such a com- 
parison may result in the elimination of most of the sup- 
posed differences, and under any circumstances, by skull 
characters alone, the sheep could only be separated into 
weak subspecies. At the present time only one positive 
statement can be made. The differences in skull char- 
acters are slight. 

The northern sheep do not undergo seasonal changes 
in color, but they do present marked individual and local 
color variations, the study of which is beset by perplexing 
problems. In this connection a few words on the distri- 
bution of sheep in the Yukon Territory will be helpful. 
A detailed description of distribution cannot be given 
in the space of this chapter, and besides, the exact topog- 
raphy in many areas and the occurrence of sheep in each 
are not known. Nevertheless, facts sufficient for a few 
generalizations have come under my observation. 

Except within the humid belt of the Coast Ranges, 
sheep exist on nearly all the mountains which rise rough 
and rocky, well above timber-line. Sheep do not live on 
lower mountains, the areas of which above timber-line 



302 



THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 



are smooth and unbroken. Sheep are most abundant in 
those regions where the mountains are continuous and 
connected. Hence they occur in greatest numbers on the 
ranges, including their direct lateral connections, east of 
the Alaska Coast Range — near the heads of the Slims, 
Donjek, and White Rivers. Next they are most abun- 
dant on the Pelly Mountains (including the Glenlyons), 
and those parts of the Ogilvies not hunted to supply meat 
for Dawson and miners in the same vicinity. Elsewhere 
in the Territory the high mountains are complex groups, 
rather than continuous ranges, and the number of sheep 
inhabiting regions of this character is comparatively more 
limited. 

The regions where sheep exist are divided into ** sheep 
ranges," each of which is very limited (only a few miles) 
in area, and occupied by a group of sheep which pass 
their lives on the same range, precisely as do cattle in the 
unfenced portions of the West. Except for some mingling 
at the borders between neighboring groups, each colony 
of sheep keeps to its own range. The sheep cling so tena- 
ciously to their ranges, that a destructive enemy, like 
man, usually exterminates them before they will leave. If 
driven off temporarily, most of them soon return. It is 
a mistake to think that sheep are driven from one region 
to another. Aggressive hunting kills off most of the 
group, and only a very small proportion migrate to other 
ranges. This is particularly true in regions where the 
mountain ranges are not continuous. But when the num- 
ber of sheep on a range increases and crowds the food 
supply, a gradual overflow to other regions takes place. 



SOME ANIMALS OF YUKON TERRITORY 303 

and this overcrowding also causes an irregular migration 
of sheep over areas inhabited by them. 

Therefore, all through the territory where sheep for- 
merly existed near routes of travel or Indian villages, or 
where their ranges were easily accessible to Indian hunt- 
ing or mining districts, they have become scarce or ex- 
tinct. Such active hunting of them, however, has re- 
cruited adjacent regions only in a limited degree. 

The type of Ovis stonei was killed in the Cheonee 
Mountains south of the Stikine River in British Columbia. 
These sheep have been traced south near the head of the 
South Fork of the Stikine to the Iskoot River, not far 
from the head of the Nass River. The extreme southern 
and eastern range is not known. It is probably between 
latitude 55 degrees and 56 degrees, and west of longitude 
126 degrees. 

The grayish color of the back and chest extends up 
the neck to the face, and nearly all the sheep in the re- 
gions south of the Stikine are uniformly colored. I know 
of two sheep, killed near the type locality, which had white 
necks and heads, and so much white hair intermixed with 
the gray of the back that they were similar in color to 
many of the sheep of the Pelly Mountains. Therefore, 
it is fair to infer that there must be other exceptional cases 
of light color among them. These sheep south of the Sti- 
kine extend their range northward along the main Casslar 
range, probably crossing to it in the vicinity of the Dease 
River. It is possible that some cross the Stikine directly 
from the Cheonee Mountains, and reach the Sheslay 
River district on the north, although there is probably an 



304 THE \V11 PFRMSS OF THE UPPKR Yl RON 

ONeiliow of mii^iaiion soiith\\.u\i to ih.u rCi;ion fioni the 
C.i<si.'.rs near Dease River. 

^^ c .ire tamill.ir with sheep directly north of the Sti- 
kine Ri\cr. uhiich come tVoni tb.e Sheslay River region. 
Here sonic h.i\e the typic.-.l color of Stone sheep, but 
man\ '..-n c so m.rc.y wh.itc hairs intermingled with the 
gray on the neck that they resemble closely the sheep of 
tb>c Felly Moiinrains» and otten ver}' light-colored sheep 
are found among them. From this region the most unin- 
terrupted mountain route for sheep to travel is north-east 
thixnigh the Cassiar range, on to the Felly Mountains, 
Glenl) on Mountains, and acix^ss the Felly Ri\er near tlie 
Tay Ri\er to the Rose Mountains. 

Directly north of the Sheslay Rl\ er district are serious 
barriers of lakes — ^Atlin, Teslin, the Taku Arm of Lake 
Bennet and numerous other small lakes. Also the moun- 
tains in that district are in groups, separated by wide 
valle\-^, rather than in continuous ranges. Flere sheep 
are comparatively scarce, only small bands vvcurring in 
a few of the mountain groups. The last group of moun- 
tains, wnest of Atlin Lake, that are inhabited by enough 
sheep to be called "sheep mountains," are near Big 
Horn Creek at the south end of the Taku arm of Lake 
Benuc:. Rctwccn Tcslir. River and the Lewes, sheep are 
ven.* scarce. Throughout this region the sheep vary in 
color exactly as they do in the Selwyn Rockies — present- 
ing various degrees of color benveen w hite and dark gray. 
Between Big Horn Creek and the Watson River country 
north of T ake Bennet. the Kvrriers of lakes and wide 
timbered \ alleys prevent continuous travel back and forth. 



SOMK ANIMALS OV MIRON I'KRRrrom' .^05 

and probably the few sheep that eross tlils area, eitlier 
from the north or from the soiitli, are seattered aiul (hiven 
friMu their raui^es, Slieep do not enter the humid bek 
of the eontinuous Coast Ranges. 

That sheep do eross the barriers is |>ro\ed by tlie faet 
that occasionally one o( intermediate color is foimd amons; 
the white Oall sheep on the Watson River, and Dall sheep 
are sometimes found anions; the variables near l^ii^ Horn 
Creek, and oven farther south. In the Watson RiNcr 
country, some of the sheep are pure white with black tails, 
a very few have i^ray hairs minified in the back, but most 
of them are pure white including the tails. Directly west 
of the Watson Ri\er region west oi' lonu;itude 1 ■;() de- 
i;rees and south o( latitude (u tlegrces- all the sheep are 
pure white. 

Just north of latitude 62 degrees, near the head of the 
Selwyn River, a few of the sheep have enough <;ray hairs 
on the back to sui^gest the pattern area of coloration. 1 
have not been able to get many facts about the occurrence 
of sheep between the Selwyn River and the Watson River. 
Sheep, however, are known to cross the Thirty Mile 
River (that part of the Lewes River between Lake Le 
Barge and the mouth of the Teslin), and it is quite pos- 
sible that some of the variables between the Teslin River 
and the Lewes niingle among the sheep west of Thirty 
Mile, and hence influence the colors northward to the 
Selwyn River. Sheep do not cross the Yukon River 
south of the vicinity of Eagle In Alaska. 

The natural route of uninterrupted sheep travel north- 
ward from the Stikine Rixer is directly through the Cas- 



3o6 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

siar range, along and across the Felly River to the Rose 
Mountains. The color of the sheep occupying the moun- 
tains parallel with the Felly River Is similar to that of the 
sheep In the Sheslay River region, except that more have 
white necks, and more have a larger proportion of white 
hairs mixed with the gray of the back. A series of skins 
from both regions would show a general similarity, more 
specimens with dark necks occurring among the sheep 
from the Sheslay River, and more with light necks among 
those from the Felly River. Neither series would show 
uniform coloration, each varying between light and dark 
within narrow limits. Dark and light sheep occur excep- 
tionally In both districts. 

The only route of travel for sheep, between the Felly 
River and the heads of the MacMIUan and Ross Rivers, 
is through the mountainous region between the Felly and 
the MacMIllan (the southward extension of the Selwyn 
Rockies). Immediately north of Rose Mountains the 
country is so broken that few sheep inhabit the region. 
The mountains, mostly dome-shaped, are separated by 
wide valleys. In the main ranges, the Selwyns, the com- 
plex groups are more connected and rougher, and there 
sheep are more abundant. Throughout the Selwyns, the 
color of the sheep Is extremely variable, the same bands 
containing sheep approximating the white Jalli, and the 
dark stonei, and every degree of Intermediate color, includ- 
ing the so-called fannini. 

The topography of the country between the Selwyn 
Rockies and the Ogilvles Is not accurately known, nor are 
exact limits assigned to each range, but sheep travel be- 



SOME ANIMALS OF YUKON TERRITORY 307 

tween the two ranges, probably In the water-shed between 
the Stewart and Peel Rivers. Owing to wide valleys and 
other features of topography, the travel back and forth Is 
probably not extensive. The Ogilvies, however, are con- 
tinuous uninterrupted ranges like the Pelly Mountains, 
and toward the north the color of the sheep rapidly 
becomes white. At the head of Coal Creek the grayish 
pattern is faint and many of the sheep are pure white 
with black tails. The darkest sheep of the region are 
Intermediate between fannini and dalli. The exact point 
north where none of the sheep show traces of gray is not 
determined, but it cannot be far, and we know that all 
sheep north and west of the Porcupine River are white. 

The sheep west of Eagle and In the Tanana Hills, 
between the Yukon and Tanana Rivers, are mostly pure 
white, though some have enough dark hairs to suggest a 
pattern area. In the same region, along the ranges west 
of longitude 146 degrees, all the sheep are pure white. 
It is not known whether sheep from the Selwyn River 
have ever travelled northward to this region, or whether 
sheep from the Ogilvies have crossed the Yukon River. 
There are places below Eagle where sheep have been seen 
on the ridges bordering the Yukon River. 

Now follows a most Interesting and significant fact. 
That portion of the Mackenzie Rockies, extending parallel 
with the Mackenzie River water-shed. Is an uninterrupted 
series of continuous ranges as far as the head of the Peel 
River. Sheep are abundant in all this area, including the 
NahannI Mountains in the south, not only to the Peel 
River, but also continuously to the mountains west of the 



3o8 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

Mackenzie Delta on the north. All these sheep, Including 
those ranging parallel with the sheep of variable colors 
in the Selwyn Rockies west of the divide, are pure white. 
Joseph Keele, who made a special study of the distribu- 
tion of sheep at the head of the Ross and Stewart Rivers, 
and also of those east of the divide, asserts positively that 
in those regions, owing to climatic conditions and areas 
destitute of vegetation, sheep never cross the divide. It 
is probable that further investigations along the divide, 
both north and south, will show that sheep do not cross 
anywhere except, perhaps, far to the north. This view 
is supported by the fact that all sheep on the Mackenzie 
side are white, which would not be the case were there 
any Intermingling. 

Where gray, brown, or black hairs occur on the sheep, 
these hairs are within the pattern area emphasized in 
Ovis stonei. The dark hairs are most persistent in the 
tail and least persistent in the head and neck. Next 
they are most persistent on the mid-dorsal line directly 
above the tail; next on the back, ventral border extending 
to the chest, and on the front sides of all the legs. When 
I speak of sheep as pure white, it is never strictly true, 
since a careful search will always reveal a few dark hairs 
In the tail, and often above on the dorsal line, and more 
rarely on the back. This Is true even of the sheep along 
the Arctic coast mountains, specimens of which I have 
recently examined. 

Let us sum up the facts here presented. 

All the sheep of Alaska are uniformly pure white, 
except occasional specimens between the Yukon and 



SOME ANIMALS OF YUKON TERRITORY 309 

Tanana Rivers east of longitude 146 degrees. There are 
no other exceptions. 

Throughout the Mackenzie Rockies, within the Mac- 
kenzie water-shed south farther than latitude 62 degrees, 
sheep are pure white. 

In the Yukon Territory, all sheep north of latitude 
66 degrees, south of latitude 62 degrees, and west of 
longitude 136 degrees, are pure white. Pure white sheep 
greatly preponderate west of the Lewes and Yukon 
Rivers. 

The sheep south and east of the Stiklne River In 
British Columbia are uniformly dark with occasional 
exceptions. 

From the Sheslay River region north of the Stiklne 
River, north along the uninterrupted area of travel through 
the Casslar ranges and the Pelly River region, there is a 
more general uniformity of color, more lighter sheep 
occurring along the Pelly River. 

In the Ogllvie Rockies the tendency toward white pre- 
vails increasingly toward the west and north. 

Throughout the Selwyn Rockies, and in the region 
between the Sheslay River district and the Lewes River, 
the color of the sheep Is extremely variable. 

Generally, variation in color occurs in some of the 
regions west of the Yukon water-shed, east of longi- 
tude 136 degrees, between latitudes 58 degrees and 65 
degrees. 

The facts Indicate that, within the areas of color vari- 
ation, sheep inhabiting the continuous unbroken ranges 
have a tendency toward uniform colors, while those in- 



3IO THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

habiting regions where the mountain ranges are broken, 
having the character of complex groups separated by 
wide valleys, tend to vary. 

No positive conclusions can be drawn from the known 
facts about the colors of sheep until science has revealed 
more knowledge of the causes of color variation. I know 
of no case among the large mammals of this continent 
analogous to the colors of these sheep. 

According to the theory* of ''Protective" or "Conceal- 
ing" coloration — a theory developed and elaborated with 
great detail, and universally applied, by Abbott Thayer In 
his book on Concealing Coloration in the Animal King- 
dom — the colors of sheep must result from Natural Selec- 
tion acting through long periods of time, continually exter- 
minating sheep possessing a color easily observed by their 
enemies, and preserving the sheep having colors which 
conceal them from their enemies. Mr. Thayer insists 
that this has resulted specially in animal coloration that is 
most obliterative, for enemy or prey, at the moment when 
the enemy is about to seize its victim — the last rush, the 
last spring, when sight alone is necessary for success. 

* I do not use the word theory as applicable to the facts of Mr. Thayer's 
analysis of animal colors in their relations to certain backgrounds. But, as a 
cardinal point, he insists that animal coloration is principally obliterative against 
the background when ^'animals are on the verge of catching or being caught." 
Since the exact conditions of attack, capture or escape between enemy and prey 
are in many cases unknown, many of the matching backgrounds, which Mr. 
Thayer describes as those in which the attack takes place, must be assumed. It 
is not, however, proved that such are the backgrounds which oppose the attack, 
and, therefore, I use the word "theory" to include the facts together with the 
unproved assumptions. Writing subsequently on the subject, Mr. Thayer ob- 
serves that his book might have been called "An expert's presentation of ex- 
amples of consummate resemblances between animals' costumes and certain of 
their backgrounds." To such a definition the word "theory" would not apply. — 
C. Sheldon. 



SOME ANIMALS OF YUKON TERRITORY 311 

With the eye of the artist, no doubt, Mr. Thayer has an- 
alyzed remarkably well the obliterative colors of the 
animal kingdom in their relations to lights and shades, 
and of blending under certain conditions with their back- 
ground. His analysis reveals some important discoveries. 
His book presents an array of facts — animal coloration in 
relation to matching certain backgrounds, analyzed ac- 
cording to the laws of the science of optics — which I fully 
believe must revolutionize not only many of the precon- 
ceived notions on the subject, but must also destroy some 
of the theories which, in the attempt to determine the 
causes of animal coloration, have been widely accepted. 
It seems to be a necessary inference from Mr. Thayer's 
writings that concealing coloration has been exclusively 
produced by the relations between predatory animals 
and their prey.* 

It may be granted (though by no means to the extent 
and under all the circumstances that Mr. Thayer asserts) 
that all animals more or less, according to certain con- 
ditions, blend with their background. The question is, 
What are the causes which produce such harmony ? 

Let us apply Mr. Thayer's theory to the sheep. 

All the northern sheep live in regions where the snow- 
fall is practically the same. Above timber-line, where 
they continually live, the country is in general the same, 

* Mr. Thayer, while repeatedly asserting his own positive belief that the Con- 
cealing Colors of animals result exclusively from a process of Natural Selection 
which has established the most favorable balance of color between predatory 
animals and their prey, admits in at least two places in his book the possibility of 
other causes. In fact, he writes me that while he deeply believes the cause to be 
Natural Selection, he has given a wrong idea to any one who thinks that he 
lays stress on its being the modus operandi of all color matching. He emphasizes 
only the color matching itself. — C. Sheldon. 



312 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

though In regions and localities the rock colors vary 
equally throughout their range in the north. 

Owing to the character of the country in which these 
sheep live and to their habits, it is of the utmost impor- 
tance to their enemies to detect them from a distance hy 
sight before making an attempt to capture them. The fol- 
lowing observations are based upon the angle of vision 
from which sheep are seen by man. The broken, moun- 
tainous country which sheep inhabit, however, is such 
that their enemies more often see them against a back- 
ground of rock, slope, or ground surface (looking down 
on them from above), rather than against a background 
of cloud and sky. Hence for purposes of detection, these 
observations apply for the most part to all the enemies 
of sheep. For purposes of capture, they apply to all 
enemies of sheep except the wolf; but even to the wolf, 
they usually apply. 

If the pelage of white sheep were to remain immacu- 
late, the animal would be conspicuous in summer any- 
where above timber. But, except for a short time during 
the month of November, the pelage is badly stained, and 
this staining causes the white sheep to become quite 
inconspicuous in some regions where the rock colors are 
in harmony with it — as in the Ogilvie Rockies, for ex- 
ample. But in other regions, where the rock colors are 
darker, the stained white sheep are so extremely con- 
spicuous that on mountain-slopes they can be easily seen 
two and three miles distant, and nearer than half a mile 
they form a striking contrast to the background. This is 
true among the mountains bordering the coast ranges in 



SOME ANIMALS OF YUKON TERRITORY 313 

Yukon Territory and Alaska, and In the whole of the 
Alaska Range. White sheep are always conspicuous on 
green slopes and pastures. They are inconspicuous on 
snow, although their stained coats, throughout all the win- 
ter, spring, and fall, except November, render a strong 
contrast against the white background. 

The dark sheep, except against a background of sky, 
are never conspicuous in summer, their color blending 
well with rocks and green slopes. From a distance they 
are most easily detected by their light rumps. But in 
the snow, under nearly all circumstances, they are exceed- 
ingly conspicuous. 

The sheep of variable color are still less conspicuous, 
except on snow where they are nearly as conspicuous as 
the dark sheep. 

All the northern sheep, dark or white, are inconspicu- 
ous either when feeding among willows, or especially 
when the surface background is banded or striped with 
snow, or when bare areas are thickly patched with snow. 
This applies to the majority of the time in spring, fall, and 
winter when sheep always seek the wind-swept parts of 
the mountains to find their food. 

When the dark of evening approaches, both white 
and dark sheep are usually conspicuous on the sky-line. 
In the twilight, during the darker hours of the night in 
summer, the white sheep are very much more con- 
spicuous below the sky-line than the dark ones. During 
the night and all through the dark hours of fall and 
winter, sheep are lying down resting. They move and 
feed only during the hours of daylight. 



314 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

When travelling in winter with a dog team, my dogs 
repeatedly scented sheep on the mountain sides from a 
distance of more than two miles, and always, if the wind 
was favorable, saw the sheep long before I could detect 
them. The enemies of all the sheep are the same — the 
golden eagle, the wolf, lynx, wolverine, and possibly 
the fox. In the north, bears never hunt or prey upon 
sheep. Sheep have no other natural enemies. 

The eagle preys only on the lambs and on them only 
until they are six weeks or two months old. After that, 
neither sheep nor eagles pay any attention to each other. 

The wolf is not very persistent in hunting sheep, prefer- 
ring rather the caribou and the moose. He catches sheep 
by chasing them on the smooth parts of their range, usually 
on the rolling hills of the basins, the pastures of the divides 
between mountains above timber-line, and sometimes on 
the level bars of a glacial river. He sometimes drives them 
off smooth mountains and catches them when they cross 
the low intervening country in their efforts to reach a high 
mountain beyond. The wolf, in his effort to detect sheep 
feeding or travelling in places favorable for catching them, 
roams on the ridges, lower mountain-slopes, and even the 
flat country above timber. He begins to run from a dis- 
tance toward the sheep, in the hope of catching one. 
But if the sheep succeed in reaching a steep mountain- 
slope or a ridge broken by rocks, the wolf never attempts 
to follow them upward. On smooth mountain-slopes the 
wolf always goes above the sheep and chases them down- 
ward, attempting to catch one before they can turn and 
go above the enemy. Wolves usually chase the youngest 



SOME ANIMALS OF YUKON TERRITORY 315 

of the sheep — those which are less than three years old, 
but more often those which are less than two years old. 

The lynx watches the sheep, for hours, if necessary, and 
after sneaking to a point toward which sheep are moving, 
crouches upon a rock and, as a sheep passes, attempts to 
leap upon its back. 

I have no facts as to the method of the wolverine's 
attack, but, its gait being slow and awkward, the attack 
must be by concealment and pouncing from above. There 
is a positive record, reported by so reliable a man as Joseph 
Keele, of a wolverine concealing itself in the branches of 
a spruce tree and leaping on the back of a moose.* 

After observing foxes in the sheep country for several 
years, and after numerous examinations of their stomachs 
and the refuse about their dens, I have no evidence indi- 
cating that they attempt to prey upon sheep, old or young. 
During several months' observation where sheep were 
abundant and when the snow was on the ground, fox 
tracks never suggested that foxes hunt sheep. It may be 
possible that they sometimes take lambs. 

It is doubtful if sheep are attacked in the dark, since 
at that time they are resting high on a mountain in rough 
places safe from their enemies. 

Thus the eagle and the lynx attack sheep from above. 
The wolverine probably attacks in the same way. At the 
critical moment of capture, therefore, the sheep is seen, 
by his most persistent enemies, from above. 

Mr. Thayer lays special stress on the angle of vision 
from which enemies see their prey at this crucial moment 

"^Forest and Stream^ Vol. LXXI, p. 971, December 19, 1908. 



3i6 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

of catching it. He asserts that white top-patterns on 
animals (including sheep) have an obliterating effect 
when seen from below at such an angle as to bring the 
white against sky and cloud (and even snow). I think 
that finally it will be admitted that Mr. Thayer correctly 
states this optical principle. There may, however, be 
many cases of doubt as to its practical application. 

It could only be of service to the sheep in escaping from 
a wolf, and only at times when the latter is trying to catch 
older sheep under conditions when the white is in such a 
position in the wolf's line of sight as to bring the white 
marking against a background of sky or snow. It would 
not apply when a wolf catches young sheep (which is 
usually the case) whose white patterns, unless the sheep 
were running upward, are below his line of vision. 
Nor would it always apply when sheep are seeking to 
escape by running downward. Therefore, though the 
advantages of these white-top patterns are true as a fact 
of optics, I have not observed that these white markings 
are of much practical advantage to sheep. 

Nor do I believe that white top-markings on other 
animals have been developed because of their oblitera- 
tive advantages to the animal. One of my reasons for this 
disbelief consists In the fact that such advantages, if 
they are practical, may endanger the young of animals 
inhabiting treeless plains (and also the young of sheep), 
and threaten the welfare of the race to an extent that off- 
sets the advantages to the adults. The young of the ani- 
mal as well as the enemy would see the white of the adult 
against the sky, and still more, the white markings on 



SOME ANIMALS OF YUKON TERRITORY 317 

the young would be observed by the enemy from above 
rather than from below, and hence offer an effective target 
for attack. Not only would the attack be more apt to 
be directed against the young, but even when directed 
unsuccessfully at the adult (attacks fail far oftener than 
they succeed), during the immediate flight the white top- 
markings would deceive not only the enemy, but also the 
young who might lose their parents and remain unpro- 
tected against a pursuing enemy who could see the white 
marking of the young against a dark background. 

The dark sheep have light rumps. Mr. Thayer would 
argue that these dark sheep have excellent concealing 
colors except sometimes on the snow, but even on the 
snow, at the final dash of the enemy, their backs would 
be turned in sudden flight and the rumps would blend 
with the sky or snow background and thus conceal them 
at the critical moment. But since there is fully as much 
snow on the mountains in the regions inhabited by dark 
sheep as in those inhabited by white sheep, and it remains 
on the surface practically as long, why has one species 
been developed white and the other with white only on 
the rump .? If enemies cause the coloration, then the 
same enemies should act to develop the colors of all the 
northern sheep. Therefore, the same cause has produced 
not only two opposite colors, pure white and black, but 
also, and over vast areas, a variety of intermediate colors. 
Under numerous conditions the protective values of the 
opposite colors are contradictory. 

As applicable to the northern sheep, therefore, we 
must dismiss theories suggesting that animal colors 



3i8 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

are caused by "Natural Selection" of their protective 
values. 

The white rump patch on sheep has been called a 
directive marking, as it enables the members of a band 
quickly to recognize one another under varied conditions. 
If, owing to their natural color, the white sheep do not 
need a directive marking when they are so conspicuous 
for four months in summer, then likewise the dark sheep 
do not need a directive marking when they are so con- 
spicuous during the eight months when the snow is on 
the ground. It is undoubtedly true that sheep take 
advantage of recognition marks, just as they take advan- 
tage of their color under conditions where it is protective. 
But I cannot believe that these recognition marks on the 
dark northern sheep have been developed by a process of 
Natural Selection favoring those which possess the white 
rump patch, since a vast majority of the sheep, being 
white, do not have a directive marking which would be 
advantageous to them for two-thirds of the year, while the 
dark sheep have need of one for only one-third of the year. 
Such a process of Natural Selection would not, under the 
similar conditions affecting all the northern sheep, pro- 
duce contradictory color results. 

The similarity of the sheep north of the range of Ovis 
canadensis, except in color, indicates that all came from a 
common ancestor. It is believed that originally American 
wild sheep migrated from Asia. The persistence of dark 
hairs in the pelage of all white sheep would suggest that 
the common ancestor was a dark animal. The close 
relation of these northern American sheep to those of 



SOME ANIMALS OF YUKON TERRITORY 319 

Kamschatka, Ovis nivicohy suggests that all sheep from 
north-eastern Asia, and north-western America north of 
latitude 55 degrees, descended from the same parent 
type. Whether in past geologic ages sheep of a uniform 
dark color were separated by topographic and climatic 
barriers long enough to cause a differentiation in color; 
whether such a separation occurred before or after the 
migration; whether in later ages the barriers were lifted 
and a reversion in color progressed, or the sheep gradu- 
ally intermingled — all such theories are in the field of 
speculation. 

From my point of view, however, the facts indicate, 
during the present age, a gradual intermingling and inter- 
breeding between the dark and white sheep, resulting in 
the variations in color. After studying for several years 
the nature and habits of these sheep, I am convinced that 
among all the color varieties there is no racial antagonism 
to interbreeding. Whenever, during the rut, a dark ram 
has strayed from its range and joined the white ewes, it 
has impregnated some of them. Likewise, white rams 
have impregnated dark ewes, and ewes straying among 
rams of a different color have been impregnated. 

The colors are most variable where the routes of travel 
are interrupted by unfavorable topographical conditions 
— between the Pelly River and Ogilvie Rockies, and be- 
tween Sheslay River district and Lewes River. In those 
regions limited bands of white and dark sheep met, inter- 
bred, and scattered throughout those sections of the 
country. Their offspring were of mixed colors, and they 
were continually receiving new accessions both from the 



320 



THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 



white sheep on the north and the dark sheep on the 
south. Gradually these interbreeds extended their range 
(always in limited numbers, for the areas are not suitable 
for abundance of sheep) both toward the north where the 
dark colors are swamped by the prepond^erance of white 
sheep, and toward the south where dark sheep prepon- 
derate and swamp the light colors. Thus traces of the 
dark pattern exist, rapidly dying out, among the white 
sheep of the north, while the opposite is true in the south. 
As soon as the interbreeds reach the continuous ranges 
the variable colors are rapidly lost, and the result is a 
tendency toward uniformity in color within narrow limits. 
In the regions of uniform dark color, individuals are 
exceptionally found which have either reverted in color 
or have strayed there. Sheep do not cross the divide 
of the Mackenzie River water-shed, hence the sheep in 
the continuous ranges on the Mackenzie side remain pure 
white, notwithstanding the fact that they range parallel 
with the variables on the Yukon side. 

Between the regions where typical Ovis dalli and 
typical Ovis stonei exist — a distance north and south of 
approximately six hundred and fifty miles, and of vari- 
able width east and west — there is no geographical area 
in which the color of the sheep is uniform. Within that 
intermediate region the uniformity of either species is 
destroyed, and the individuals must be referred to one 
or the other according to their color leanings. 

It is the generally accepted view that all species are the 
products of evolution. True intergradation is so common 
that it is only necessary to mention it. As species of the 



SOME ANIMALS OF YUKON TERRITORY 321 

same genera extend their ranges and reach different con- 
ditions of cHmate and environment, or become isolated, 
they tend to differentiate more or less according to their 
plasticity and the degree or character of the change in 
environment. As a result, geographical races are formed, 
gradually changing from one area to another, until the 
extremes may be widely different. Near the border-line 
between the geographical races there is an intermingling 
and — ^where two forms come close together — no doubt 
interbreeding, which results in intergrades referable to the 
race which they most closely resemble on either side of 
the border. But, within the geographical areas, the differ- 
ing characters are sufficiently uniform to mark a race, 
though there may be individual variation. Where species 
of the same genera differ and intergrades are unknown, 
it is either because the intergrades have not been found 
or they have not survived. 

Sometimes the difference in environment, physical and 
climatic, is so subtle as to be indete-rminate. It is pos- 
sible that the variation in the colors of the sheep is thus 
produced, by subtle and indeterminate changes of envi- 
ronment, to a much greater extent than the facts seem 
to me to indicate. A wider and more thorough famili- 
arity with the facts of intergradation might cause me 
to change my present belief, that at some time in the past 
either the intergrading forms between the Dall and the 
Stone sheep disappeared, or that the extremes of dark 
and white were produced by long isolation, in different 
environments, owing to the interposition of barriers be- 
tween sheep of similar color; or from some other cause; 



322 



THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 



and that the existing variations are the result of the grad- 
ual extension of the ranges of sheep of the two extreme 
types of color, with consequent interbreeding. At least, 
even if the different colors of sheep are caused by their 
environment, interbreeding must still be a factor in pro- 
ducing such irregular variations. 

CARIBOU 

Two well-marked species of caribou In Yukon Ter- 
ritory have been determined — the Barren Ground, Rangi- 
jer arcticusy and the woodland, so-called Rangifer os- 
borni. At present there is not sufficient material In our 
public institutions to define accurately the exact relation 
between these two types and the other named species of 
caribou In British Columbia and Alaska. The life-history 
of no other large animal In the north is so difficult to 
observe as that of the caribou, and it would require special 
investigations extending over several years to determine 
accurately their distribution and habits. 

The caribou In the Ogilvie Rockies is the true Barren 
Ground type. It is smaller in body and skull than the 
woodland type, its horns are less diverging and lighter in 
beam, although many of the horns of both types have 
characters so identical that the resemblance is complete. 
The only difference in the habits of the two types con- 
sists in the Barren Ground caribou's tendency to wander 
more restlessly over a wider area, and especially in Its 
banding together in the fall and migrating. In Yukon 
Territory its habits are similar to those of Its neighbor 
in the Barren Grounds of Canada, except in so far as the 



SOME ANIMALS OF YUKON TERRITORY 323 

habits vary to suit the mountainous country in which 
the Yukon animal roams. 

Scattered bands, always restless, travelling among 
mountains, always feeding and resting above timber-line, 
are found all summer throughout its range. In the fall 
large bands assemble far in the north and begin to mi- 
grate southward, passing through the Ogilvies in Novem- 
ber and December. The main band, numbering between 
fifteen and twenty thousand— perhaps more — has pro- 
vided the greater part of the winter supply of game meat 
for Dawson and the mining camps of the Klondike. 
After the winter hunters had disturbed this band for a 
few years, the caribou changed their route of migration 
farther to the east along the Peel River water-shed. In 
March the majority return northward. Numerous other 
small bands keep wandering about the Ogilvies during 
the fall and winter. Formerly, during the migrations, 
large bands of caribou crossed the Yukon River in the 
vicinity of Eagle, but at present this habit of crossing 
seems to have ceased. 

I have been unable to determine the limits of the 
southern range of these caribou. Probably it does not 
pass from the Ogilvies to the Selwyn Rockies. The 
Barren Ground caribou range well to the south on the 
Mackenzie side of the divide, and Mr. Keele advises me 
that he has seen them near the head of the Pelly River. 
A few may cross the divide In that latitude. But none 
are found elsewhere in the Selwyns, unless very near the 
Ogilvies. 

The woodland caribou, Rangijer oshorni, exists 



324 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

throughout the Casslars and the Selwyn Rockies. It does 
not occur in the Pelly Mountains or the Glenlyons. It 
is abundant in the mountain groups between the Pelly 
and the MacMillan and in the mountains near the South 
Fork of the MacMillan. It prefers mountains of a sub- 
dued type with smooth, dome-like summits free from too 
much erosion. Its favorite ranges are quite locally dis- 
tributed in the regions it inhabits. It keeps within a 
definite habitat and, though restless and roaming in its 
habits, it does not gather in large bands and migrate. 
During the winter, however, scattered bands often gather 
to the number of two or three hundred and range in a 
well-defined route of travel over a limited area, usually 
less than a hundred miles. 

A woodland type of caribou inhabits the Teslin Lake 
country, but no specimens have been examined. Also 
the same type inhabits locally many districts west of 
the Lewes River and becomes abundant near the coast 
ranges at the head of the Donjek and White Rivers. If 
specimens of these caribou could be compared, they 
would probably be referable to Rangijer stonei of Alaska 
which, when sufficient material has been secured, may 
prove to be identical with Rangijer osborni. It is my 
belief that greater series of specimens, brought together 
for comparison, will so resemble each other that It will 
be difficult to separate them, and perhaps all caribou of 
this woodland type may prove to be closely related to the 
Barren Ground type. 



SOME ANIMALS OF YUKON TERRITORY 325 

MOOSE 

Moose, except in localities where they have been 
driven away from populous centres, exist throughout the 
timbered regions of the Territory. They are most abun- 
dant in the Selwyn Rockies, Pelly Mountains, and the 
region of the upper Liard River. They are almost 
equally abundant near the heads of the Donjek and 
White Rivers. They are very abundant in the Ogil- 
vles, and less so in the forested country of low relief. 
I never heard of moose, caribou, sheep, or grizzly bears 
existing within the humid belt of the coast ranges. 
Moose have been seen at Log Cabin near the White Pass 
Railroad. 

Their principal food is the willow. Notwithstanding 
much skepticism, they sometimes eat grass. I have 
killed moose when they were specially feeding on grass, 
and have found quantities of it in their stomachs. Dur- 
ing the summer and fall they feed much in the lakes. 

When their ranges are among high mountains, after 
August, when the flies are gone, their favorite haunts are 
near the heads of the draws. In winter their movements 
depend mostly on the condition of the snow. In spring 
and early summer they remain in the lower country 
among lakes and near rivers. 

The rut begins in early September and ends in Octo- 
ber. One or two calves at a birth are born in May or 
early June. In the winter they do not yard. Often 
from four to eight bulls feed together, though some bulls 
remain solitary. The cows remain solitary with their 



326 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 

calves. Twin calves remain together a year or more 
after they leave the mother. The bulls shed their horns 
from the middle of December to the middle of January. 
Moose are wary, after their kind, whether much hunted 
or not, but the bulls, during the early rut, come to the 
call of the birch-bark horn, or the scraping of a bone on 
a tree in imitation of a rival scraping his horns, and often 
to any unusual noise like the blows of an axe. Like 
caribou and bears, they desert settled districts, quite un- 
like sheep, which remain on their ranges almost to the 
point of extermination. 

BEARS 

The grizzly bear dwells among mountains rising well 
above timber-line and exists all over Yukon Territory. 
Except when it comes to the rivers for salmon, it roams 
near and above timber-line. It is most abundant west 
of the Lewes River, and north along the dry belt inside 
of the coast range. It is abundant in the Ogilvies, 
Selwyns, and Pellys. It never exists in large numbers 
anywhere. It hibernates, according to season, in Octo- 
ber or November, and comes forth in May, when it 
immediately begins to eat the roots of the wild pea vine, 
and soon after digs mice and ground-squirrels. When 
the salmon begin to run up the rivers, the grizzlies begin 
to feed exclusively on them. Bears do not hunt moose, 
caribou, or sheep, though they will feed on a dead car- 
cass. The females have from one to three cubs which 
remain with the mother for two years. Everywhere, the 
grizzly is wild and timid and flees from man. 



SOME ANIMALS OF YUKON TERRITORY 327 

The black bear dwells exclusively in the timbered 
areas of the Territory including the whole of the coast 
ranges. It is most common in Alaska on the west slopes 
nearer salt water. It does not regularly intrude in the 
haunts of the grizzly. The " cinnamon " or brown phase of 
color is found in the interior, but it is uncommon. I 
have never seen it among the bears on the west slopes of 
the coast range, though occasionally this color phase has 
been found there. 

WOLVES 

Wolves exist throughout the Territory, but are quite 
local in their haunts. The black phase of color is com- 
mon. They tend to keep pretty close to caribou in locali- 
ties where caribou are common. Their habits are similar 
to those of timber wolves elsewhere. 

MOUNTAIN GOATS 

Goats live exclusively in the humid belt of the coast 
range, seldom ranging far into the dry belt away from the 
east slopes. Where the goat ranges end, those of the 
sheep begin, though both are occasionally found quite 
close together. Goats are exceedingly abundant in the 
areas which they inhabit. 

All the fur-bearing animals of the north are abundant 
in Yukon Territory. Many of them have diminished in 
number since the Klondike gold discoveries, when white 
men began to trap them. The smaller mammals and 
birds have been discussed in the published reports of 
W. H. Osgood.* 

* See Appendix A. 



APPENDICES 



APPENDIX A 

LIST OF BOOKS RELATING TO SPORT, NATURAL HIS- 
TORY, AND EXPLORATION OF THE YUKON 
TERRITORY 

SPORT 

Pike, Warburton: Through the Subarctic Forest. A record of a 
canoe journey from Fort Wrangel to the Pelly Lakes and down the 
Yukon River to the Behring Sea. Illustrations and maps. (London: 
Edward Arnold, 1896.) Incidents of sport in Northern British Colum- 
bia and on the Pelly River. 

Selous, F. C. : Recent Hunting Trips in British North America. 
Illustrated. (New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1907.) Contains 
narratives of hunting on both North and South Forks of the MacMil- 
lan River. 

Schwatka, Frederick: Along Alaska's Great River. A popular 
account of the travels of the Alaska Exploring Expedition of 1883, 
along the great Yukon River from its source to its mouth in the British 
North-west Territory, and in the Territory of Alaska. Map. Illus- 
trated. (New York: Cassell & Co., 1885.) Incidentally mentions 
the game observed along the upper Yukon waters. 

NATURAL HISTORY 

Osgood, Wilfred H. : Results of a Biological Reconnoissance of the 
Yukon River Region. Map. Illustrations. (United States Biological 
Survey, North American Fauna No. 19. Washington, D. C. : Octo- 
ber, 1900.) Descriptive Natural History of Lewes and Yukon Rivers. 

Osgood, Wilfred H. : Biological Investigations tn Alaska and 
Yukon Territory. Map. Illustrations. (United States Biological Sur- 
vey, North American Fauna No. 30. Washington, D. C. : October, 



332 APPENDIX A 

1909.) Includes descriptive Natural History of the Ogilvie Range and 
of the Macmillan River. 

Ogilvie, William: The Klondike Official Guide. Maps. Illustra- 
tions. (Toronto: The Hunter, Rose Co., Limited; London: W. W. 
Smith & Sons, 1898.) Historical and descriptive; contains a short de- 
scription of game and fur-bearing animals. 

EXPLORATION, TOPOGRAPHY, AND GEOLOGY 

Dawson, George M. : Report of an Exploration in the Yukon Dis- 
trict, N. fV. T., and Adjacent Northern Portion of British Columbia, 
Maps and illustrations. (Annual Report Geological Survey, Canada, 
1887, Part B.) Includes Pelly and Lewes Rivers. 

Ogilvie, William: Exploratory Survey of Part of Lewes, Tat-on- 
duc. Porcupine, Bell, Trout, Peel, and Mackenzie Rivers. Maps. Il- 
lustrations. (Annual Report Department Interior, Canada, for year 
1889, Part VIII.) 

McConnell, R. G.: Report of an Exploration of the Yukon and 
Mackenzie Basins, N. W. T. Maps and illustrations. (Annual Report, 
Survey, Canada, IV, New Series, 1888-1889.) Includes Peel, Porcu- 
pine, and Yukon Rivers. 

Keele, Joseph: The Upper Stewart River Region. Map. Illustra- 
tions. (Ottawa: Geological Survey of Canada, 1906.) 

Camsell, C. : Peel River and Tributaries. Map. Illustrations. 
(Ottawa: Geological Survey of Canada, 1906.) 

McConnell, R. G., and Keele, J. : The MacMillan River. (Annual 
Report Geological Survey, Canada, New Series, Part A, Vol. XV, 
1902.) 

Keele, Joseph: A Reconnoissance Across the Mackenzie Mountains 
on the Pelly, Ross, and Gravel Rivers, Yukon and North-west Ter- 
ritories. Maps. Illustrations. (Ottawa: Government Printing Bu- 
reau, 1910.) 



APPENDIX B 

SCIENTIFIC NAMES OF ANIMALS MENTIONED IN THE 

NARRATIVE 

For a fuller list of mammals and birds of Yukon Territory the 
report of W. H. Osgood should be consulted (North American Fauna, 

No. 30, 1909). 

MAMMALS 

Bear, Black — Ursus atnericanus. 

Bear, Grizzly — Ursus horribilis (subsp. ?). 

Bear, Alaska Grizzly — Ursus horribilis phoenix (Ogilvies; Selwyn 

Rockies). 
Beaver — Castor canadensis. 
Caribou, Barren Ground — Rangifer arcticus. 
Caribou, Osborn — Rangifer osborni. 
Chipmunk, Gray-headed — Eutamias caniceps. 
Cony or Pika — Ochotona collaris. 
Fox — Vulpes fulvus. 

Goat, Rocky Mountain — Oreamnos montanos (subsp, columbianus?). 
Ground-squirrel — Citellus plesius. 
Lynx, Canada — Lynx canadensis. 
Marmot, Hoary — Marmota caligata. 
Marten — Mustela americana actuosa. 
Mink — Lutreola vison. 

Mink, North-west — Lutreola vison energumenos (Pelly River). 
Moose, Alaska — Alces americanus gtgas. 
Mouse, Red-backed — Evotomys dawsoni. 

Mouse, Meadow (Interior Vole) — Microtus operarius endcecus. 
Muskrat, North-west — Fiber zibethicus spatulatus. 
Otter — Lutra canadensis. 

Porcupine, Alaska — Erethizon epixanthum myops. 

333 



334 APPENDIX B 

Rabbit, White or Varying — Lepus americanus macfarlani. 

Sheep, Dall — Ovis dalli. 

Sheep, Fannin — Ovis fannini. 

Sheep, Stone — Ovts stone:. 

Squirrel, Red — Sciurus hudsonicus. 

Weasel, Arctic — Putorius arcticus. 

Wolf, Northern — Cants albus. 

Wolverine — Gulo luscus. 

BIRDS 

Alaska Jay — Perisoreus canadensis fumifrons. 

Bald Eagle, Northern — Haliceetus leucocephalus alascanus. 

Bank Swallow — Riparia riparia. 

Duck Hawk — Falco peregrtnus anatum. 

Gambel's Sparrow — Zonotrichia leucophrys gambeli. 

Golden Eagle — -Aquila chysaetos. 

Goose, Hutchins — Branta canadensis hutchinsi. 

Goshawk — Astur atrtcapillus. 

Great-horned Owl, Ogilvies — Bubo virginianus (subsp. ?). 

Great -horned Owl — Pelly River drainage — Bubo virginianus 

(subsp. ?). 
Grouse, Alaska Spruce — Canachites canadensis osgoodi. 
Harlequin Duck — Histrtonicus histrionicus. 
Hawk Owl — Surnia ululi caparoch. 
Herring Gull — Larus argentatus. 
Hudsonian Chickadee — Penthestes hudsonicus. 
Junco, Slate-colored — Junco hyemalis. 
Kingfisher, Belted — Cyrele alcyon. 
Little Brown Crane — Grus canadensis. 
Loon, Red-throated — Gavia stellata. 
Marsh Hawk — Circus hudsonicus. 
Merganser, Red-breasted — Mergus serrator. 
Northern Shrike — Lanius borealis. 
Olive-backed Thrush — Hylocichla ustulata swainsoni. 
Osprey — Pandton hahcetus caroltnensis. 
Pigeon Hawk — Falco columbarius. 
Ptarmigan, Northern White-tailed — Lagopus leucurus peninsularis. 



APPENDIX B 335 

Ptarmigan, Rock — Lagopus rupestris. 

Ptarmigan, Willow — Lagopus lagopus (most commonly mentioned). 

Raven, Northern — Corvus corax principalis. 

Robin — Planesticus mtgratorius. 

Rough-legged Hawk — Archibuteo lagopus sanctijohannis. 

Short-billed Gull — Larus brachyrhynchus. 

Solitary Sandpiper, Western — Helodromas solitarius cinnamomeus. 

Spotted Sandpiper — Actitis macularia. 

Teal, Green-winged — Nettion carolinense. 

Varied Thrush, Northern — Ixoreus ncevius merulotdes. 

Whistling Swan — Olor columbianus. 

Water Ousel — Cinclus mexicanus umcolor. 

Western Tree Sparrow — Spizella monticola ochracea. 

FISHES 

Dog Salmon — Onchorhynchus keta. 

Grayling — Thymallus signijer. 

Inconnu — Stenodus mackenzii. 

King Salmon — Onchorhynchus tochawytscha. 

Pike — Esox lucius. 

Sucker — Catostomus catostomus. 

Whitefish — Coregonus (probably Nelsoni). 



APPENDIX C 

ORIGINAL DESCRIPTIONS OF NORTHERN SHEEP 

From Proceedings United States National Museum, Vol. VII, 
pp. 12, 13, 1884 

A New Geographical Race of the Mountain Sheep {Ovis Montana 
Dalli, var. nov.). From Alaska. By E. W. ISfelson 

This form can be recognized at once by its nearly uniform dirty- 
white color, the light-colored rump area seen in typical montana being 
entirely uniform with the rest of the body in dalli. The dinginess of 
the white over the entire body and limbs appears to be almost entirely 
due to the ends of the hairs being commonly tipped with a dull, rusty 
speck. On close examination this tipping of the hairs makes the fur 
look as though it had been slightly singed.* This form also has smaller 
horns than its southern relatives, but how the two compare in size and 
weight I am unable to say. 

I name this form in honor of Mr. W. H. Dall, whose scientific 
work in Alaska is so well known. 

Hamilton, New Mexico, December 22, 1883. 

From Bulletin American Museum Natural History, New York, Vol. IX, 

pp. Ill, 112, 1897 

Preliminary Description of a New Mountain Sheep from the British 
Northwest Territory.-f By J. A. Allen 

Through the kindness of Mr. A. J. Stone, of Missoula, Montana, 
the Museum has received three mounted specimens of a Mountain 
Sheep, or Bighorn, quite unlike any heretofore described. They were 

* Later investigations proved the color to be pvire white, the "dinginess" alluded 
to being merely discoloration absorbed from rocks and soil. — Charles Sheldon. 

f Measurements given in this original description have been omitted, — Charles 
Sheldon. 



APPENDIX C 337 

collected by Mr. Stone on the headwaters of the Stickeen River, 
British Northwest Territory, near the Alaskan boundary, at an altitude 
of about six thousand five hundred feet. The species may be described 
as follows: 

Ovts stonei, sp. nov. 

Male Adult. — Above gray, formed by an intimate mixture of whitish 
and blackish brown; face, ears, and sides of neck lighter and more 
whitish, being much less varied with blackish brown; whole posterior 
area and lower parts from hinder part of back downward and forward, 
covering the posterior aspect of thighs, and the abdomen, white, the 
white area narrowing anteriorly and terminating in a V-shaped point 
on the middle of the chest; also a broad, sharply defined band of white 
on the posterior surface of both fore and hind limbs, extending from 
the body to the hoofs, and proximally including also the inner surface; 
front of neck, from base of lower jaw posteriorly to the white of the 
ventral surface. Including the breast and greater part of the chest, and 
thence along the sides to the thighs, nearly black; the lateral extension 
along the flanks becomes narrower posteriorly, and the neck is some- 
what grizzled with white; outer surface of both fore and hind limbs black- 
ish brown, either uniform or in some specimens varied with a slight 
mixture of whitish; back of head with a broad area of black, narrow- 
ing posteriorly and continuing to the tail as a well-defined blackish 
dorsal stripe; tail wholly deep black, except a few white hairs on the 
middle of its lower surface; a narrow blackish chin bar, varying in 
breadth and distinctness in different individuals; hoofs black; horns 
light brown. 

This species is based on three males, of the ages, respectively, of 
two, five, and six years. The older specimen is taken as the type. 
On this the dark areas are blacker, and on some parts less varied with 
whitish tipped hairs than in the others, especially the two-year-old. 

This species differs from Ovis dalli in the prevailing coloration, 
being either dark gray or blackish brown, according to the area in 
question, instead of being "a nearly uniform dirty-white color." In 
O. stonei the white is restricted to definite, sharply defined areas, in 
strong contrast with the adjoining parts. 0. stonei and O. dalli ap- 
parently agree In size and in the character of the horns. 



338 APPENDIX C 

O. stonei agrees in a general way in pattern of coloration with 
O. cervina (Desm.), but the "umber-brown" or "wood-brown" of the 
latter is everywhere replaced in O. stonei with blackish brown or black. 
It is also a much smaller animal, and the horns are slenderer and have 
a more outward curvature at the tips. 

From Fifth Annual Report New York Zoological Society, Appendix I, 

pp. 1-4, 1 90 1 

Ovis fannini,* sp. nov. Fannin's Mountain Sheep. Also, "Saddle- 
backed" Sheep, or "Piebald" Sheep'\ 

Type collected by Mr. Henry W. Brown at Dawson City, N. W. T., 
February, 1900, and presented to the Provincial Museum, Victoria, B. C. 

DESCRIPTION OF AN ADULT MALE, NINE YEARS OLD, KILLED IN 

MIDWINTER 

Colors. — Entire head and neck, breast, abdomen, inside of forelegs, 
and rump patch for four inches above insertion of tail, snow white. 
Entire body, except as above, brownish gray, giving the appearance of a 
white animal covered by a gray blanket. This color is produced by a 
nearly even mixture of pure white and blackish-brown hairs. The 
gray color covers the shoulders from the insertion of the neck down- 
ward to the knee, where it fades out. On the outside of the thigh, 
the gray color grows paler as it descends, until at the hock joint it fades 
out entirely. The posterior edge of the thigh is white. The lower 
portion of the inner surface of the thigh partakes of the gray body 
color, but is somewhat paler. 

* Sheep of variable colors, including those of Ovis fannini, were well known to 
miners, prospectors, and traders along the Upper Yukon for many years. They were 
first recorded by R. G. McConnell, in his report of an exploration in the Yukon and 
Mackenzie Basins, in 1888. His Indians had killed a white sheep near the Peel 
River Portage, and commenting on the color he says: "The change in color and size 
toward the north is evidently a gradual one, as the saddle-backed sheep of the upper 
Yukon presents characters intermediate between the two extreme varieties." "Report 
on an Exploration in the Yukon District, N. W. T., etc., by George M. Dawson, with 
extracts from the report of R. G. McConnell." Geological Survey of Canada, Ottawa, 
1898, page 210. — Charles Sheldon. 

f Measurements given in this original description have been omitted. — Charles 
Sheldon. 



APPENDIX C 339 

On the front edge of the thigh, and extending down to the hoof, 
is a conspicuous band of dark brown, one and one-half inches wide, 
which, below the hock joint, joins rather abruptly the pure white hair 
which covers the sides and rear edge of the leg. A similar brown 
band extends down the front of the foreleg, from knee to hoof, similarly 
backed up posteriorly with white. 

The tail is similar in color to the body, but much darker, and a 
thin line of dark-brown hair connects it with the gray mass of the body. 
The white rump patch is similar in form to that of Ovis montana, but 
covers a smaller area. 

Pelage. — Thick and long; finer and softer than on Ovis montana. 
On the neck and abdomen it inclines to shagginess, like that of the 
mountain goat. The stiff, brittle quality is noticeably absent from all 
white parts of the animal. Everywhere the pelage is abundant and 
thick, as befits an Arctic animal. Because of this, the animal appears 
to be shorter in the legs and more stockily built than all other American 
species, save Ovis dalli. 

Horns. — In color, clear, transparent, even amber-like, similar to 
the horns of Ovis dalli when clean. Annulations numerous and well 
defined. A slight groove under the superior angle, not so deep as that 
of Ovis stonei. In the type specimen the horns do not spread as in 
Ovis stonei and dalli; but this character is of little scientific value, be- 
cause of the wide variations between individuals of the same species. 



APPENDIX D 

HORN MEASUREMENTS 

horn measurements in inches, taken with steel tape before 

shrinkage. all horns perfect unless otherwise mentioned 

Ogilvie Rockies 

Ram killed July 19, 1904 

Number of age rings on horns 7 

Length on outside curve right horn 30 

Length on outside curve left horn 30 

Circumference at base of right horn I2 

Circumference at base of left horn 12 

Tip to tip 23 

Ram killed July 23, 1 904 

Number of age rings on horns 7 

Length on outside curve right horn 29I 

Length on outside curve left horn 29I 

Circumference at base of right horn 13!^ 

Circumference at base of left horn 13^ 

Tip to tip 25 

First Ram killed August 2, 1 904 {Big Ram) 

Number of age rings on horns, more than .... 13 

Length on outside curve right horn 36I 

Length on outside curve left horn 36! 

Circumference at base of right horn 13I 

Circumference at base of left horn 13I 

Tip to tip 17 

Length from nose to end of vertebrae in straight line . 59 

Standing height at shoulder 40 

340 



APPENDIX D 341 

Second Ram killed August 2, 1 904 

Number of age rings on horns 8 

Length on outside curve right horn 32 

Length on outside curve left horn 32 

Circumference at base of right horn 13^ 

Circumference at base of left horn 13I 

Tip to tip 17! 

Third Ram killed August 2, 1904 

Number of age rings on horns 5 

Length on outside curve right horn 27 

Length on outside curve left horn 27 

Circumference at base of right horn 13 

Circumference at base of left horn 13 

Tip to tip 17I 

Fourth Ram killed August 2, 1904 

Number of age rings on horns 3 

Length on outside curve right horn 18 

Length on outside curve left horn 18 

Circumference at base of right horn 9^ 

Circumference at base of left horn 9I 

Tip to tip 15! 

Felly Mountains 

First Ram killed July 29, 1 905 

Number of age rings on horns 6 

Length on outside curve right horn 31^ 

Length on outside curve left horn 32 

Circumference at base of right horn I2i^ 

Circumference at base of left horn I2yf 

Tip to tip 18 li 

Weight of cleaned skull with horns 11 lbs. 

Weight of dried skin thoroughly fleshed 5 lbs. 6 oz. 



342 APPENDIX D 

Second Ram killed July 29, 1 905 

Number of age rings on horns 8 

Length on outside curve right horn 35I 

Length on outside curve left horn 35I 

Circumfeience at base of right horn I3tV 

Circumference at base of left horn 133V 

Tip to tip ijl 

Weight of cleaned skull with horns 14-2- lbs. 

Weight of dried skin thoroughly fleshed 5 lbs. 3 oz. 

Third Ram killed July 29, 1 905 

Number of age rings on horns 9 

Length on outside curve right horn Broken at tip 

Length on outside curve left horn 36! 

Circumference at base of right horn 13! 

Circumference at base of left horn 13! 

Tip to tip 17^ 

Weight of cleaned skull with horns 14J lbs. 

Weight of dried skin thoroughly fleshed 5 lbs. 6 oz. 

Ram killed August I, 1 905 {Big Ram) 

Number of age rings on horns, more than .... 13 

Length on outside curve right horn Broken at tip 

Length on outside curve left horn, blunted at tip . . 34! 

Circumference at base of right horn I2| 

Circumference at base of left horn 13^ 

Tip to tip, about 16 

Weight of cleaned skull with horns 17 lbs. 

Weight of dried skin thoroughly fleshed 5f lbs. 

Length from nose to end of vertebrae in straight line . 59 

Standing height at shoulder 40 

(It will be noticed that these body measurements are identical with 
those of the big ram killed in the Ogilvie Rockies, August 2, 
1904.) 



APPENDIX D 343 

First Ram killed August 6, 1905 

Number of age rings on horns 6 

Length on outside curve right horn 32tV 

Length on outside curve left horn 31 if 

Circumference at base of right horn 14 

Circumference at base of left horn 14 

Tip to tip 17 

Weight of cleaned skull w^ith horns 14I lbs. 

Weight of dried skin thoroughly fleshed 7 lbs. 5 oz. 

Second Ram killed August 6, 1 905 

Number of age rings on horns 9 

Length on outside curve right horn 37tV 

Length on outside curve left horn ....... 38^ 

Circumference at base of right horn 13! 

Circumference at base of left horn 13I 

Tip to tip 2o| 

Weight of cleaned skull v^ith horns i6| lbs. 

Weight of dried skin thoroughly fleshed 7 lbs. 5 oz. 

Third Ram killed August 6, 1 905 

Number of age rings on horns 5 

Length on outside curve right horn 28^ 

Length on outside curve left horn 28f 

Circumference at base of right horn izj 

Circumference at base of left horn 12 J 

Tip to tip 17! 

Weight of cleaned skull with horns 9 lbs. 

Weight of dried skin thoroughly fleshed 5 lbs. 10 oz. 



APPENDIX E 
TIME SPENT IN PADDLING DOWN PELLY RIVER 

From the mouth of the Ross River to the Lewes I had kept an 
accurate record of the time consumed paddHng between well-known 
tributaries. All the time occupied during stops is deducted. 

Strickland canoe, twenty-one feet long, weight one hundred and 
fifty pounds; weight of two men and materials an additional one thou- 
sand pounds; September stage of water; average September weather. 
Total distance two hundred and ninety miles (Dr. Dawson). 

HOURS MINUTES 

Ross River to Rose Creek 13 45 

Rose Creek to Glenlyon River i 20 

Glenlyon River to Tay River 2 15 

Tay River to Harvey Creek 2 25 

Harvey Creek to Earn River i 25 

Earn River to Tummel River 3 15 

Tummel River to MacMillan River .... 7 5 

MacMillan River to head of Granite Canon . 2 5 

Passing through Granite Canon 40 

Foot of Granite Canon to Mica Creek ... 3 40 

Mica Creek to Willow Creek 50 

Willow Creek to Grayling Creek i 10 

Grayling Creek to the Lewes 5 15 

45 10 



344 



INDEX 



INDEX 



(For scientific names of animals see Appendix B) 



Alaska, viii, ix, 179, 186, 217, 

228, 267, 289, 298, 305, 308, 

322, 324, 331. 
Alaska jay, 10, 43, 62, 66, 69, 105, 

131, 143, 196, 210, 217-218, 

244, 274, 285. 
Alaska Range, 313. 
Alder, as fuel, 289. 
Allen, J. A., 336. 
Atlin District, 157. 
Atlin Lake, 298, 304. 
Aurora borealis, 84, 129. 

Bald eagle: 254,256,260; chas- 
ing gull, 172-173. 

Balsam, as fuel, 270. 

Barr, Jack, 101, 139. 

Barr Creek, 101, 139. 

Barren Grounds, 322. 

Bear (Black) : vii, 275, 282, 314; 
actions when crossing fresh trail 
of man, 103-104, 109; courage- 
ous swimmer, 257 ; distribution, 
327; dung of, 255; killed, 283- 
284; observed near Yukon 
River, 6; on MacMillan, 142; 
receiving scent of man, 142, 150; 
set-guns for, 278, 281; shooting 
at, 256; stalking, 150; tracks on 
Coal Creek, 10, 16, 79; tracks 
on Katzehin River, 172, 174, 
175; tracks on MacMillan River, 
90, 98, 102; tracks on Ross 
River, 254; tracks in Selwyn 
Rockies, 127, 134. 

Bear (Grizzly) : vii, 48, 104, 142, 
167, 282, 314; caution of, 255; 
catching a ground-squirrel, 26; 
diggings, 23, 45, 54, 157, 216, 
273, 293; distribution and hab- 
its, 326; dung of, 255; eating 
salmon, 256; instinct of scent, 



28-29; observed near Coal 
Creek, 15; observed on Mac- 
Millan River and Selwyn Rock- 
ies; 98, 112, 117, 126, 131; ob- 
served in Pelly Mountains, 201- 
202; observed on Ross River, 
260-261, 273; signs in Pelly 
Mountains, 196, 246; stalking 
and killing, 25-27; timidity of, 
261; trails of, 255; tracks on 
MacMillan River and Selwyn 
Rockies, 98, 112, 117, 126, 131; 
tracks on Ross River, 255. 

Bearberry, 33. 

Beaver: abundance on MacMillan, 
some habits, instincts, etc., 91- 
93; dams, 100-101, 134; carry- 
ing sticks to house, 140; con- 
structing house, 163; scarcity on 
Pelly, 188; scarcity on Ross, 
254; tail as delicacy, 94. 

Big Horn Creek, 304, 305. 

Big Salmon River, 171. 

Biological survey, xi-xiii, 4, 76, 
131, 156, 294, 331. 

Birch (white), as fuel, 289. 

Black flies. (See Gnat.) 

British Columbia, 3, 303, 309, 322, 
331, 332. 

Burwash, Mr., 155, 156. 

Caches, necessity of, 107. 

Cache Creek, 135. 

Cameron, D. A., 83, 140. 

Campbell, Robert: career as ex- 
plorer, 183-186; discovers Mac- 
Millan River, 88; discovers 
Pelly River, 183; discovers Ross 
River, 251. 

Caribou (Barren Ground): ac- 
tions after being shot at, 66; 
actions when feeding, 39; ac- 



347 



348 



INDEX 



tions when wounded, 39; atti- 
tude when standing at rest, 58, 
64; distribution and habits, 
322-323; measurements, horns 
and color, 40; stalking, 39; 
tracks in Ogilvie Rockies, 15, 
31, 48, 60; trails, 21, 67. 

Caribou (Osborn's): ix; abun- 
dance between Pelly and Mac- 
Millan, 279, 281; actions of 
cow after first sight of man, 145; 
actions of calf with mother, 145- 
146; distribution and habits, 
323-324; killed on bank of Mac- 
Millan River, 140; not found in 
Glenlyon Mountains, 293; not 
found in Pelly Mountains, 245; 
observed on Plateau Mountain, 
94, 142, 144-145; signs in Mac- 
Millan Mountains, 296; signs on 
Ross River, 263, 272, 273, 274; 
udder of cow as delicacy, 99. 

Caribou {Rangifer stonei), 162, 
167, 324 

Cassiar Mountains, 303, 304, 305, 
309, 323. 

Cheonee Mountains, 303. 

Chickadee, 244. 

Chilkoot Pass, 185. 

Cliipmunk, 200, 227. 

Clearwater Creek, 125. 

Clothing, xiii. 

Coal Creek: 4, 5, 8, 60, 71, 72, 79, 
195-196, 307; character of, 9, 
14, 19; country along lower 
reaches, 9, 14; dangers of ford- 
ing, 10; forks of, 12; sources of, 
23, 31. 

Coast Ranges, vii, 301, 302, 305. 

Coghlan, Charles, 84, 95, 102, 126, 
130, 131, 138, 141, 151. 

Concealing coloration. (See Pro- 
tective coloration.) 

Cony, 31, 48, 56, 65, 162, 206, 243. 

Cranberry, 32, 33. 

Crosby, Mr., 101, 139. 



Dall, W. H., 336. 
Dall sheep. (See Ovis dalli.) 
Darwin, Charles, xii. 
Dawson, x, 4, 80, 83, 141, 171, 177, 
302, 323. 



Dawson, G. A.: 88, 332, 338, 344; 

explorations of, 184-185, 187, 

191, 195, 280. 
Dawson red-backed mouse, 49, 

263, 266, 274. 
Dease River, 185, 186, 190, 304, 
Devil Club, 174. 

Dogs (Indian), 188-189, 190, 192. 
Donjek River, 302, 324, 325. 
Dougherty, Mr., 83, 140. 
Draws, 106. 
Dromedary Mountain, 89, 90, 144, 

286. 
Dryas, 32, 
Duck Hawk, 85, 
Dugas, Judge, 83, 
Dwarf birch, 20, 22, 24, 200, 245, 

Eagle, 305, 307, 323. 

Earn River, 344. 

Equipment, xiii-xiv. 

Ewes: actions after first sight of 
man, 54, 56, 59, 70; actions after 
hearing rifle shot, 56, 204, 288; 
actions when approached with 
wind, 54, 230; alertness com- 
pared to that of cow moose, 115; 
at rest, 63, 121 ; browsing among 
wiflows, 113, 115; feeding hours, 
55, 58, 62; habits of collective 
action, 204; habits of caution, 
231, 288; habits of watchfulness, 
121, 230; keeiDing lambs at a dis- 
tance when feeding, 292; nerv- 
ousness when detached from 
band, 291; observed in Ogil- 
vies, 24, 60, 63, 66, 67, 69, 71; 
observed in Pellys, 202; ob- 
served in Selwyns, 116, 118, 119, 
133; sport of, 55, 56; stalking, 
121-124, 159-161, 204, 287- 
289; tracks of, 113, 114; udder 
as delicacy, 99; vitality of, 161- 
162. 

Field Lake, 263, 264. 

Fish-hawk, 254. 

Foley, Mr., 156, 159, 162. 

Footgear, xiv. 

Fort Halkett, 183. 

Fort Pelly Banks, 184-185, 191. 

Forty Mile, 5, 6. 



INDEX 



349 



Fox: 151, 159, 274, 281, 289, 290, 
293; attacking sheep, 314, 315. 
Frances Lake, 184, 185, 186. 

Gage, Charles, 4, 83, 95, 151. 

Gambel's sparrow, 244. 

Geese, 90, 253, 256, 263, 285. 

Glenlyon Mountains: 178, 187, 
276, 280, 302, 304, 323; de- 
scriptions of, 286-287, 288, 290, 
291, 292, 293. 

Glenlyon River, 344. 

Gnats: black flies attacking horses, 
11; "sand flies," 99, 247. 

Goat, Rocky Mountain: 327; not 
so alert as sheep, 174; observed 
near Katzehin River, 173-174. 

Golden Eagle: 42, 54, 56, 65, 110, 
113, 150, 162, 196, 200, 216, 221, 
244; attacking sheep, 314, 315. 

Goshawk, 102, 143, 196, 256, 276. 

Granite Canon, 87, 151, 182-183, 
344. 

Gravel River: 252, 332; source 
of, 251. 

Grayling: 22, 200; abundance of, 
13; in Yukon, 8. 

Grayling Creek, 344. 

Great horned owl, 285. 

Grew, Jim, 194. 

Ground-squirrel: 19, 48, 63, 66, 
69, 72, 111, 125, 156, 196, 205, 
206, 209, 224, 227, 268, 274, 279, 
281, 287, 296; abundance of, 
26; senses of, 245. 

Grouse, Alaska spruce, 10, 15, 73, 
105, 143. 

Haines Mission, 172. 

Harlequin duck, 23, 200, 207, 244. 

Harvey Creek, 344. 

Hawk owl, 19, 105. 

Henderson, Bob, 83. 

Herring-gull: 151, 285; chased 
by bald eagles, 172-173; chased 
by goshawk, 276. 

Hoole (interpreter), 183-184. 

Hoole Canon, 179, 184. 

Horn, Mr., 83, 140. 

Horse (Danger): 7, 178, 188-189, 
190, 195, 205, 246, 247, 275; 
keenness of senses, 219; quali- 
ties, 218. 



Hosfall, Mrs.: 180-182, 183; her 
experience kiUing an otter, 294- 
295. 

Hudson Bay Company, 88, 183, 
189, 190, 194, 251. 

Husky Dog Creek, 104, 122, 135. 

Ice, running in rivers, 149. 

Inconnu, 266. 

Indians: 6, 86, 92, 93; Chilkat, 
184; Kaska, 190, 191; Nahanni, 
190; Pelly (Es-pat-o-ti-na), 177, 
188-189, 195, 247, 251, 252, 
256, 279; description of, 190- 
192; frightened by horse, 189; 
Selkirk, 296. 

Interior vole, 31, 49. 

Iskoot River, 303. 

Itsi Mountains, 272. 

Jay. (See Alaska jay.) 

Jefferies, Tom, 178, 205, 206, 207, 
216, 217, 219, 242, 246, 253, 
256, 257, 258, 259, 260, 262, 266, 
270, 278, 284, 286, 293, 297. 

Johnson, C. E. Wynn, 155, 158, 
159, 162, 166, 172, 173, 174. 

Junco, 14, 244. 

Kalzas Creek, 90, 149, 294. 

Kalzas Lake, 295. 

Kalzas Mountains, 89, 90, 91, 143, 
149, 286, 294, 295. 

Kamschatka, 318. 

Katzehin River: ix, 172; descrip- 
tion of, 172-173. 

Keele, Joseph, 88, 252-253, 264, 

. 274, 308, 315, 323, 332. 

Ketza (Indian), 183. 

Kingfisher, 245, 256, 276. 

Klondike District, 323, 332. 

Klondike River, 4, 82. 

Lake Bennett, 158, 159, 304. 

Lake Le Barge, 305. 

Lake Tatlaman, 92. 

Lambs: browsing in willows, 280; 

sport of, 56, 66, 69, 203. 
Lapie (Indian), 183. 
Lapie River: 192, 215, 244, 246, 

247; descriptions of, 195-196. 
Lebell, Mr., 153. 
Lewes, John Lee, 184. 



350 



INDEX 



Lewes River, ix, 183, 184, 185, 

191, 304, 305, 309, 319, 324, 326, 

331, 332, 344. 
Lewis, Mr., 190, 191, 194, 251- 

252, 261, 274, 275. 
Lewis Lake, 252, 260, 261, 262, 

264, 265, 275. 
Liard Post, 191, 194. 
Liard River, 183, 184, 190, 191, 

199, 325. 
Lichen moss, 15, 32, 54. 
Little brown crane, 148, 285. 
Little Salmon River, 92, 281. 
Log Cabin, 325. 
Loon, 267. 
Louis Cardinal, 94, 101, 102, 107, 

108, 125, 129, 130, 131, 137, 

138, 139, 140, 141, 144, 150, 151. 
Lynn Canal, 172, 185. 
Lynx: 18, 92, 149, 150, 165, 274, 

275, 282, 283, 284; attacking 

sheep, 314, 315; indifference to 

canoe, 293. 

McCoNNELL, R. G., 88, 89, 332, 

338. 
McDames Creek, 190. 
McKinnon, 194, 247. 
Mackenzie Delta, 308. 
Mackenzie River, 41, 120, 251, 

263, 264, 307, 308, 309, 320, 323, 

332. 
Mackenzie Rockies, 301, 307, 309. 
MacMillan (Chief Factor), 88. 
MacMillan Mountains: 88, 89, 90; 

description of, 295. 
MacMillan River: viii, 83, 85, 144, 

145, 179, 180, 183, 203, 271, 272, 

274, 279, 286, 294, 295, 296, 297, 

298, 300, 306, 331, 332, 334; 

beavers on, 91, 93, 100-101; 

country between forks, 99-100; 

description of, 97; discovery of, 

88; North Fork, 95, 96, 101, 

104, 256, 294; South Fork, viii, 

89, 95, 140, 324; sources of, 

251, 269. 
Marmot: 31, 48, 51, 56, 65, 71, 

162, 205, 224, 274, 281, 291; 

senses of, 245. 
Marsh hawk, 244. 
Marten. 49, 92, 274. 
Mead Glacier, 172, 174. 



Merganser, red-breasted, 85, 101, 
150, 276. 

Merriam, C. Hart, x, xi, xii, xiii, 
156. 

Mica Creek, 344. 

Mice, scarce in Felly Mountains, 
218, 244. 

Mink, 49, 274, 275. 

Missionaries, 191-192. 

Moccasins, 33, 52, 109, 111. 

Moose: vii, 140, 167, 188, 206, 
274, 282; abundant in Pellys, 
245; abundant on Ross, 273: 
abundant between Pelly and 
MacMillan, 279; action when 
crossing fresh trail of man, 117; 
age of tracks, 278; distribution 
and habits, 325-326; food of, 
245, 325; old tracks in Pelly, 
186; old tracks in Watson 
River coimtry, 156, 158, 162; 
scarce in Glenlyons, 293; tracks 
on Coal Creek and in Ogilvies, 
9, 14, 15, 16, 20, 79, 105, 106; 
tracks on MacMillan and in Sel- 
wyns, 90, 98, 117, 131, 133; 
tracks in Pelly Mountains, 196; 
tracks on Plateau Mountain, 
145; tracks on Ross, 254, 263, 
268, 273; trails, 17, 20, 67, 72, 
105, 106, 133. 

Moose bull: 101, 107-108, 122, 
148, 150, 296; ability to walk 
without noise in brush, 137-138; 
"calling," 130, 131-132, 133, 
134, 135, 136-139, 140, 147, 
148; fighting, 130; food, 270; 
habits and actions when resting, 
147; horns, 17, 206, 270, 325; 
inconspicuous, 147; rubbing 
velvet ofif horns, 269; rut of, 
125, 148, 281, 325; sequester- 
ing cow during rut, 122-123; 
141, 144; stalking, 269-270; 
trails, 99-100, 117; travelling 
above timber, 146. 

Moose calf: 265, 266-267, 325- 
326; actionsafter killing mother, 
98-100. 

Moose cow: 6, 98, 114, 119, 123, 
265, 325; actions after calf was 
shot, 266; stalking, 266-267; 
testing sight and scent, 116; 



INDEX 



351 



tracks of, 21; udder as a deli- 
cacy, 99. 

Moose Creek, 145. 

Moose Lake, 145. 

Mosquito: 13, 15, 19, 20, 32, 35, 
38, 39, 40, 43, 48, 53, 54, 58, 61, 
63, 196, 231 : date of disappear- 
ance, 68. 

Mosquito net, for head, 20. 

Mount Gray, 158, 163, 164, 166. 

Mount Riddell: 264, 268, 272; 
absence of sheep on, 273-274. 

Mount Sheldon: 264, 265, 267, 
268, 269, 271-272, 273, 274; 
cirque of, 271. 

Muskrat, 166. 

Nahanni House: 171, 189, 191, 

252, 275; description of, 194. 
Nahanni Mountains, 307. 
Nass River, 303. 
Natural selection, 310, 311, 317, 

318. 
Nelson, E. W., 336. 
Newell, A. B., ix, 84, 155, 157, 159, 

288. 
North Fork. (See MacMillan 

River.) 
Northern shrike, 66, 69. 
North-west Mounted Police, 5, 

177-178. 
North-west Territories, 332. 

Ogilvie, William, 332, 

Ogilvie Rockies: 15, 21, 24, 30, 
111, 297, 300, 306, 307, 309, 312, 
319, 322, 323, 325, 326, 331, 332, 
333, 334; character of, 18; 
compared with Pellys, 199-200; 
compared with Selwyns, 109; 
descriptions of, 40, 48, 54, 59, 
67, 73, 76; vegetation on, 32; 
weather conditions, 62, 79. 

Olive-backed thrush, 14, 17. 

Orchay River, 199. 

Osgood, W. H.: X, 4, 7, 16, 19, 40, 
44, 49, 58, 59, 62, 70, 79, 95, 96, 
139, 140, 143, 148, 150, 151, 327, 
331, 333; game killed by, 142; 
kills bull caribou, 60; kills ewe, 
43; successfully stalks rams, 
71; skill as a naturalist, 156; 
wounds a ram, 63. 



Otter, 294. 

Ovis canadensis, 299, 318. 
Ovis cervina. (See Ovis canaden- 
sis.) 
Ovis dalli: 3, 43, 78, 203, 296, 297, 

305, 306, 307, 320, 321; original 
description, 336. 

Ovis fannini: 3, 43, 76, 78, 203, 
216, 227, 296, 297, 298, 306, 307; 
original description, 338. 

Ovis montana. (See Ovis canaden- 
sis.) 

Ovis nivicola, 318. 

Ovis stonei: 3, 113, 114, 203, 216, 
226, 297, 299, 306, 308, 320, 321 ; 
distribution, 303; original de- 
scription, 337. 

Pack-horses, 7, 11, 16, 32. 

Patterson, J. A., 83. 

Peel River, 24, 307, 323, 332. 

Pelly, Sir H., 183. 

Pelly Lakes, 186, 194, 331. 

Pelly Mountains: 188, 195, 234, 
264, 276, 287, 288, 302, 303, 304, 
307, 323, 325, 326; descriptions 
of, 196-201, 207, 215, 223, 233. 

Pelly River: 84, 88, 89, 151, 171, 
177-179, 190, 195, 244, 264, 275, 
276, 278, 279, 280, 282, 283, 285, 
286, 292, 293, 296, 297, 300, 304, 

306, 309, 319, 323, 324, 331, 332, 
334; discovery, history, descrip- 
tion, 85, 183-187; limit of 
steamboat navigation on, 193; 
source of, 251; time of paddling 
between Ross and Lewes Rivers, 
344. 

Pelly Road Crossing, 296. 

Pelly Road House, 84, 151. 

Pigeon-hawk, 244. 

Pike, 261. 

Pike, Warburton, explorations of, 

185-186. 
Plateau Mountain, vii, 94, 142, 

144, 146, 286. 
Poling, 262. 
Poplar, as fuel, 289. 
Porcupine, 143, 175. 
Porcupine River, 307, 332. 
Prevost Canon, 252, 258, 262, 275. 
Prevost River, 252, 260. 
Protective coloration, 310-317. 



352 



INDEX 



Ptarmigan, Rock, 206, 244. 

Ptarmigan, white-tailed, 67. 

Ptarmigan, Willow, 22, 44, 54, 72, 
113, 114, 118, 121, 146, 148, 150, 
162, 206, 207, 209, 244, 268, 279, 
290, 296. 

Rabbit, 18, 73, 100, 143, 156, 162, 
166, 196, 228, 254, 274, 283, 285, 
286, 290, 293. 

Rams: 35, 163, 216; actions after 
first sight of man, 33, 41, 51, 75, 
235, 236, 239; actions after 
hearing rifle shot, 33, 41, 52, 75, 
213-214, 225, 236; actions of 
younger members when de- 
tached from band, 268; actions 
when approaching them with 
the wind, 74, 220, 224-226; ac- 
tions when feeding, 35, 236; 
actions when travelling, 36; 
actions when wounded, 37, 45, 
57, 74, 213-214; appearance 
on sky-line, 36, 226 ; appearance 
under excitement, 224; com- 
municating alarm, 37; habits 
of watching, 35, 208, 212-213, 
223, 237; horn measurements, 
340-343; horns, 53, 77, 216, 
226, 236, 299-300; inability to 
distinguish direction of rifle 
shot, 75, 214; lack of collective 
action, 38, 74, 213; leaders, 37, 
241; measurements, 77, 226, 
340, 342; resemblance to ibex, 
225, 231, 235; resting hours, 67; 
stalking, 35, 40, 51, 55, 72, 128, 
164-166, 208-214, 221-225, 235- 
241 ; tendency of oldest to keep 
apart from band, 73; tendency 
of young rams to separate from 
ewes, 202; weight, 227; weight 
of dried skins, 341-343; weight 
of skulls, 341-343. 

Raven, 42, 65, 121, 125, 162, 196, 
244, 254, 255, 260, 276. 

Red squirrel, 14, 22, 23, 43, 69, 
97, 100, 105, 125, 131, 134, 143, 
188, 196, 227-228, 247, 254, 255, 
274. 

Riddell, Bob, 134, 135. 

Rifle, xiv, 33. 

Robin, 105, 118, 127. 



Robinson, 155. 

Rocky Mountain sheep. (See Oris 
canadensis.) 

Rose, Mr., 179, 188, 276-278. 

Rose Creek, 282, 344. 

Rose Mountains: 188, 278, 304, 
306; view from, 279, 280, 282. 

Rose Slough, 278. 

Rose River, 199. 

Ross, Duncan, 251. 

Ross River: 171, 179, 186, 187, 
189, 255, 260, 274, 279, 297, 
306, 308, 332, 344; as a hunt- 
ing country, 273; country bor- 
dering, 263-264; exploration, 
history, description, 251-253; 
travelling time to Lewis Lake, 
262; travelling time from Lewis 
Lake to Pelly, 275. 

Rough-legged hawk, 10, 54, 243, 
244. 

Rungius, Carl: x, 4, 8, 10, 14, 15, 
16, 19, 29, 31, 33, 42, 49, 53, 58, 
60, 61, 62, 64, 70, 71, 79, 95, 96, 
139, 140, 143, 148, 149, 151, 156; 
game killed by, 142; kills bull 
caribou, 65; kills cow caribou, 
44; kills ewes, 43; kills grizzly 
cub, 32; kills ram, 45. 

Russell Creek, 95, 140. 

Russell Mountains, 97, 110, 139, 
142, 144, 286. 

Saddle-backed sheep. (See Ovis 
fannini.) 

Salmon, Dog, 151. 

Salmon, King, 13, 79, 183, 254, 
260, 263, 266. 

Sand flies. (See Gnat.) 

Schnabel, BiU, 156, 158, 160, 161, 
166. 

Schwatka, Frederick, 331. 

Selkirk, 84, 151, 171, 179, 183-184, 
296. 

Selous, F. C. : viii, 83, 93, 95, 96, 97, 
99, 101, 105, 106, 112, 114, 116, 
117, 118, 119, 124, 125, 129, 130, 
134, 137, 138, 139, 140, 141, 142, 
147, 148, 151, 155, 180, 331; 
kills bull moose, 107-108, 126- 
127; kills cow moose, 98; kills 
ewe, 131; kills two caribou, 113; 
stalks black bear, 102-104, 150. 



INDEX 



353 



Selwyn River, 296, 297, 298, 305, 
307. 

Selwyn Rockies: 89,101,297,304, 
306, 308, 309, 323, 324, 325, 326, 
333; descriptions of, 109-110, 
120, 272. 

Sheep. (See also Ewes, Lambs, 
Rams, Ovis dalli, Ovis fannini, 
Ovis stonei.) vii, ix, 6, 19, 65, 111, 
126, 144, 145, 166, 167, 188, 206, 
263, 292, 296, 326; ability to 
distinguish between natural and 
artificial sounds, 238, 291; acci- 
dents, 216; actions in fright, 62; 
age of trails, 1 19; almost extinct 
near Ross River, 274; attitudes, 
61; beds, 58; causes of colora- 
tion, 318-322; climbing ability, 
55, 56, 124; (colors in Glen- 
lyons, 287, 290, 292); (colors in 
Ogilvie Rockies, 35, 41, 43, 56, 
66, 78) ; (colors in Pelly Moun- 
tains, 203, 204, 213, 216, 226, 
230, 234, 237); (colors in Rose 
Mountains, 280, 281); (colors 
near Ross River, 268, 271); (col- 
ors in Selwyn Rockies, 113, 114, 
115, 120, 124, 127, 297); (colors 
head of Selwyn River, 296); 
(colors in Watson River coun- 
try, 160); (colors in Yukon 
Territory, 297-298); conspicu- 
ous, 235, 312-313; distribution, 
301-303; distribution accord- 
ing to color, 297-298, 303-310; 
enemies, 312, 314-316; en- 
vironment, 299; food, 216; gait 
of, 229, 290; indifference to 
grizzly bear, 201-202; indif- 
ference to scent of man, 128, 
220; inconspicuous, 55, 115, 
312-313; interbreeding, 319- 
322; intergradation, 320-322; 
leaders, 230; measurements, 
299; meat of, 43; migration 
habits, 302; pawing away snow 
to get food, 113, 115, 287, 292; 
persistence of dark hairs, 308, 
318; photographing, 219-220, 
230; physical characters, 299- 
301; resting attitudes, 222; rest- 
ing hours, 70; rings on horns, 
340-343; scarce between Pelly 



and MacMillan, 279; sense of 
hearing, 291; "sentinels," 202, 
208, 230, 234, 237, 281; sheep 
ranges, 302; skull characters, 
301; stalking, 127-129; ten- 
dency of bands to exclude out- 
siders, 202-203; tormented by 
mosquitoes and flies, 61, 231; 
trails, 21, 31, 48, 65, 67, 200, 
206; white rimap patch, 318. 

Sheldon Lake, 252, 264. 

Sheslay River, 203, 303, 304, 306, 
309, 319. 

Short-billed gull, 267. 

Simpson, Sir George, 184. 

Skagway, ix, 4, 155, 167, 171, 172, 
175. 

Skookum Rapids, 258, 262. 

Sleeping robes, xiii. 

Slims River, 302. 

Smith, Tom, 191. 

Solitary sandpiper, 9. 

South Fork. (See MacMillan 
River.) 

Spahr, Ed, 4. 

Spotted sandpiper, 9, 244. 

Spruce, as fuel, 289. 

Stewart River, 120, 145, 297, 300, 
307, 308, 332. 

Stikine River, 3, 185, 203, 300, 
301, 303, 304, 309, 337. 

Stone, A. J., 336. 

Stone sheep. (See Ovis stonei.) 

Swan, Whistling, 274. 

Tanana Hills, 298, 307. 

Tanana River, 307, 309. 

Tatonduk River, 23, 24, 48, 67, 
332. 

Tay River, 187, 283, 304, 344. 

Taylor, Capt. John, 178, 188, 190. 

Telegraph Creek, 203. 

Teslin Lake, 298, 304, 324. 

Teslin River, 304, 305. 

Thayer, Abbott, his views of con- 
cealing coloration applied tc 
sheep, 310-317. 

Thirty Mile River, 305. 

Tummel River, 344. 

Van Bibber, 194. 
Van Gorda, 179, 194. 
Varied thrush, 16. 



354 



INDEX 



Water-ousel, 23, 60, 244. 

Watson River: vii, 155, 157, 298, 
304, 305; description of ad- 
jacent country, 158, 159; game 
near, 167. 

Weasel, Arctic, 49. 

Western tree sparrow, 244. 

Wheaton River, 157, 159. 

White fish, 261, 263, 266. 

Whitehorse, x, 4, 7, 155, 166, 171, 
177. 

White Pass, 172. 

White Pass and Yukon Railway, 
X, 4, 84, 178, 288, 325. 

White River, 302, 324, 325. 

Willow, as fuel, 289. 

Willow Creek, 344. 



Wolf: 70, 148, 246, 274, 282, 284- 
285, 327; attacking sheep, 312, 
314, 316; did not hunt sheep in 
Glenlyons, 293. 

Wolverine: 49, 126, 127; attack- 
ing sheep, 314, 315. 

Wood, Major Zachary Taylor, 177, 
178. 

Yukon River: ix, 4, 24, 41, 79, 
84, 183, 262, 296, 298, 305, 307, 
308, 309, 320, 323, 331, 332; 
at mouth of Coal Creek, 6. 

Yukon Territory, vii, viii, ix, 3, 
177, 178, 179, 186, 217, 228, 254, 
261, 267, 274, 298, 299, 300, 309, 
313, 322, 325, 326, 327. 






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